


Bear In Mind, (Bear in Heart)

by alkjira, diemarysues



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Animals, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Awkwardness, Drama, First Meetings, First Time, Flirting, Hobbit Big Bang Challenge 2015, M/M, Romance, Shapeshifting, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 14:29:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3981547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alkjira/pseuds/alkjira, https://archiveofourown.org/users/diemarysues/pseuds/diemarysues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moving from one small town to another should be unremarkable, but Bilbo learns just how wrong he was when he gets warned about a giant bear in the woods.  However no one warned him about the tall, dark, and unfairly attractive man living on the outskirts of town. </p><p>Beorn, on the other hand, is perfectly comfortable with his life at the edge of Dale where he doesn't bother and isn't bothered by the townspeople - but when a newcomer comes to town he finds himself wanting to break that particular rule.</p><p>Meeting on a midnight walk under the full moon is surely a romantic way to start a relationship, even if one of you happen to be a bear at the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to our collab big bang story!
> 
> The rating is mainly for the last couple of chapters, but there are some hints of naughtiness before that point as well. There's also some violence later on, as well as mentions of blood and such, (including in this chapter) but nothing that's worse than the films, and to be clear, Bilbo and Beorn are never violent towards each other.
> 
> On with the story!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Bilbo flinched at the low snarl that echoed through the forest and his pleasant little fantasy disappeared with an almost audible puff._

Bilbo wasn’t sure if it was too his advantage or disadvantage that it was close to midnight.  
  
On the one hand there weren’t many people out walking through the woods this time of day, erm, _night_ , so no one would question what he was doing (just walking) and why he wasn’t wearing shoes while he was doing it (because he didn’t want to).

On the other hand, if he got eaten by a wolf or something even larger and hungrier no one would really notice. Though the wolf would at least appreciate his lack of shoes. They were sensible that way, wolves, or so he supposed.  
  
There’d not been any wolves in Hobbiton and to be fair Bilbo didn’t know if there were any in the forests around Dale either, but as Hobbiton hadn’t even had a forest to start with he felt it best to be a little cautious. But just a little, because supposedly no one from Dale had ever actually been eaten by wolves or anything else for that matter. At least not according to the man he rented his house from; Bard, who was actually the new _mayor_ of Dale something Bilbo had only found out about after moving.  
  
Apparently mayors lived in special houses, hence Bard’s old one being available for Bilbo to rent. And it was an embarrassingly low rent at that, Bilbo had felt a bit guilty about agreeing to it but Bard had been adamant that there’d been no need to go higher.  
  
Finding out that Bard was the mayor helped somewhat, because mayors were paid quite well weren’t they? And hopefully there was nothing in their work description forbidding them to tell newcomers _if_ there was any wild creatures living in the woods that liked to eat people.  
  
On second thought, it was _possible_ that mayors weren’t really allowed to admit that people sometimes were eaten. Bilbo had watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and if Bard was anything like the mayor in that one… The less said about it the better.

Also, one of Bard’s children, the youngest one… her name had been… yes, _Tilda_ , she’d actually mentioned something about a bear.  
  
Albeit she’d said it was a very nice bear, but what did an eleven year old know anyway?  
  
Something in the forest on Bilbo’s right made a crack-snapping sound and he resolutely did not look that way. It was just the wind. Or a squirrel. A very kind-hearted badger at most. Nothing dangerous. Definitely not a wolf. Or a bear. The bear thing was likely made up anyway. Children.  
  
Bard had returned with the house keys for Bilbo just after Tilda’s story had gotten to the part with the bear; the story up until that point could be summarised as Tilda getting lost in the forest without knowing how to get back home, and Bilbo hadn’t quite gotten to know how it ended.  
  
Clearly the girl was alive and uneaten, but Bilbo doubted that a bear would actually allow her to ride on its back all the way home again… The whole thing had to be a flight of fancy. Obviously.  
  
Other people in Dale had also mentioned something about a bear living in the forest… pointing out that Bilbo shouldn’t bother it. Which didn’t mean that Tilda was right, just that the girl had likely been told the same thing, and made up the part where she actually met a bear. Or _the_ bear as it were.  
  
In fact, there probably was no bear at all, Bilbo reminded himself as there came another ominous cracking sound, now from his left.  
  
Perhaps he had misunderstood. Perhaps they’d all been talking about Beorn, the man who lived on the outskirts of Dale just at the edge of the forest, _coincidentally_ in the direction Bilbo was walking in.  
  
Beorn was definitely what you could call a _bear_ of a man, and no, that wasn’t at all a pleased shiver going down Bilbo’s spine at the thought of him. Just like there’d been nothing of the sort the first time Bilbo had seen him outside the grocery store either.  
  
If only he’d not been so far away at the time… Beorn had disappeared in his truck before Bilbo had had the chance to walk over and introduce himself. Only to be polite, of course. And asking Bard about Beorn’s name that was just, erm, pre-emptive politeness.  
  
But no shivers. Or other things. He wasn’t a teenager anymore and there were certain things he was entirely too old for.  
  
Another thing he was too old for was any and all idle fantasies about Beorn coming along and saving him from any wolves or bears that might be in the forest before taking him home and offering to wash Bilbo’s clothes for him, since they’d gotten so dirty from all the needing to be saved, and while the clothes were… absent, they could-  
  
Bilbo flinched at the low snarl that echoed through the forest and his pleasant little fantasy disappeared with an almost audible puff.  
  
Right. That was _not_ a branch, or frog or-  
  
The snarl faded away into a pained whine, followed by a wet snuffle.  
  
Not a badger either.  
  
Since any normally minded person would immediately walk briskly - or run screaming - in the opposite direction of that sound, someone like Bilbo stood frozen for a few moments before carefully tiptoeing towards it.  
  
Maybe there was something he could do to help. Whatever hade made that noise was clearly in pain.

As Bilbo caught sight of what had produced the noises his eyes grew round and his eyebrows travelled a fair distance closer to his hairline.

“Nice bear,” Bilbo tried, taking a small step backwards. “No need to eat me.”  
  
Apparently he’d not misheard the part about the bear after all. Shite.

-

Beorn didn’t know what to think. This person, this little man, had to be lacking even a moderate sense of self-preservation. As well as lacking shoes.  
  
The self-preservation was somewhat more dire though. You did not go anywhere near an injured bear, or any injured animal larger than a house cat really, not unless you wanted to be mauled. And even the cat was a bit risky, as he himself could attest.  
  
The little man’s survival instincts seemed to be present, as his first response had been to back away, only now the blond stranger was creeping closer and closer. Likely with the intention to help him out of the foothold trap, as his eyes kept flicking between that and Beorn’s face. Or teeth. Beorn was pretty sure that his teeth got the most looks.  
  
It wasn’t that Beorn didn’t feel some gratitude. Without help it was unlikely that he could get out of the trap any time soon, at least with all limbs still intact.

The damned thing was powerful enough to have bitten fairly deep into his ankle; Beorn could smell blood, and it ached like a _bastard_.  
  
He’d considered his options and if a smaller version of his leg suddenly replaced the one currently stuck he’d be able to get loose, but unfortunately it was also possible that changing out of bear form would cause the trap to snap shut further. This time snapping off his bone at the same time as he was a lot more breakable as a human.  
  
Regardless of what some people knew, and some people thought that they knew, it wouldn’t do for just anyone to find a naked man stuck in bear trap. Nor one limping home with a broken and bloody foot. That would raise entirely too many questions that Beorn had no intention of answering.  
  
If he could have just changed his hands back, and only his hands… then he’d been able to open the trap, but sadly that wasn’t how things worked. Which meant that before this blond little man had come along Beorn had resigned himself to wait at least for a while. Best to see if he smelled or heard someone familiar before risking breaking his foot.  
  
He’d not been meaning to draw the attention of this one, hadn’t even known he’d been around to be entirely honest. A shrew made more of a ruckus when they walked for fucks sake, and the wind had been coming from the wrong direction.  
  
At least it didn’t look like he’d been the one to place the trap. No, indeed not. But Beorn had a pretty good idea of who it could be. Bloody, fucking-  
  
“There is absolutely no need to growl,” the blond man said, a small waver to his voice and Beorn; who hadn’t even realised he’d begun to growl, stopped. This seemed to surprise the blond, who paused his slow creep forward to blink up at him.  
  
“Don’t tell me that Tilda was actually right?”

Tilda? Oh right, Bard’s daughter. The one he’d helped find her way home that one time.  
  
Beorn made a small displeased noise. He needed to have a talk with Bard if his daughter went around telling stories to outsiders. The smell of this one wasn’t at all familiar, and even if it _was_ rather pleasant it was still that of an outsider.

 _But if she hadn’t told then maybe he’d not be helping you now_ , part of Beorn’s mind suggested and he huffed, then growled when he managed to jar his leg a little.  
  
“If you actually are Tilda’s nice bear then you really shouldn’t eat me,” the blond said and edged even closer. “She’d be very disappointed in you. I’m just going to open that nasty trap, and then we’ll go our separate ways, and I’ll keep all my limbs and you’ll keep all of yours.”

The trap around Beorn’s ankle got a very foul look, one Beorn could testify that it deserved.  
  
“I can’t believe someone would put something like this here. What if a child got stuck - not that it’s good that you were the one who got stuck, but imagine someone like, well, like Tilda. Just terrible.”  
  
Or yourself, Beorn wanted to say, especially considering the lack of shoes since it wouldn’t even take a bear trap to hurt him then. A shard of glass would have been more than enough. Or even a particularly determined pinecone.  
  
He caught himself staring at the pale and somewhat unusually long toes of the little man. If he hadn’t been able to smell him now Beorn could almost have believed that it’d been some sort of forest creature coming to help him. He certainly looked the part.  
  
It was a warm summer night, and the full moon hung high in the sky, turning the man’s curls into a shining halo and made his skin glow. Add in the thin, slightly too large, white shirt and tan trousers, not to mention the bare feet, and Beorn couldn’t help to think this little man looked to belong with the faery people his mother had told him about. But no one had seen anyone of the Fae in years, and while there were people with a bit of their blood in them Beorn didn’t think this one here was one of them.  
  
He smelled…Beorn inhaled deeply. ..like grass and sunshine. And not like something that would dance between trees beneath the moonlight.

-

Bilbo didn’t know what he’d expected. To be eaten. To not to be eaten but maimed or at least gnawed on or clawed a little. This _might_ be Tilda’s bear, but even if it was her ‘nice bear’ it was still a wild animal, and a hurt one, and wild animals... well, they were wild.  
  
Even the average cat was a serial killer in fluffy disguise, at least according to that bit he’d read in the paper, them killing birds and whatnot just for fun.  
  
All things considered Bilbo had taken the time to locate a nice climbable tree he could make his escape to after freeing the bear, if he even survived that long. Which… he did.  
  
The bear just huffed at him when he got close enough to fiddle with the mechanism of the trap, and as soon as Bilbo had managed to get it to open… well, perhaps what Bilbo had expected least of all was for the bear to shimmer and shrink and turn into a man.

 _The_  man. The tall and dark and handsome one. Beorn. Now even more grumpy looking than before and that was quite a feat. And naked. And still very handsome. Erm. He was actually very naked. Very, _very_ naked. No clothes what so ever, not even-  
  
Bilbo swallowed and forced his eyes to stop ogling, even though there was indeed a lot for him to ogle.

“Shit,” Beorn muttered. “I didn’t mean to- well _fuck_.”  
  
Bilbo opened his mouth, but thought better of it and closed it again without making a comment.  
  
“Will you tell anyone?”  
  
Still trying to figure out what to say or not say Bilbo merely shook his head. Who could he tell? His relatives back in Hobbiton would think he’d lost what little sense he had left if he started babbling about bears turning into men, and he couldn’t imagine that telling Bard or anyone here would go over any better.  
  
_‘Bard, you know that bear Tilda was telling me about? It’s Beorn. No, really. And he was naked.’_  
  
Perhaps Bilbo was a little too focused on the naked part. Possibly.  
  
“Thank you,” Beorn said, looking like he’d rather be eating the trap than repeat himself. Then, without further comment or explanation or anything at all more, he lumbered off, clearly favouring his left leg and were those dark spots on his leg _blood_?

“Wait,” Bilbo said and hurried after him. “You need medical attention!”  
  
“It will heal,” Beorn replied without turning around. “I can and have tended to my own injuries before.”

“I won’t tell anyone you let me help you if you won’t,” Bilbo said, catching up. He bit his lip for a moment before daring to tug lightly on a burly hairy forearm, not as hairy as before, nor as burly, but-

“Come on, lean on me while we walk back to your house.”  
  
-

Beorn couldn’t stop the huff of laughter that escaped his lips. And seeing the blond puff himself up like an irate owl did not help at all. No, on second thought, never mind the owl. He looked like a very angry duckling. Or bunny, yeah, probably more like a bunny with those big feet. And the way his little nose crinkled.  
  
“I’ll need to lean _down_ a bit,” Beorn said, as unable to stop his smile as he’d been his laughter. “If I’m to lean at you.”  
  
“Oh, well, right.” The man looked down at himself as if only just realising that there was a bit of a difference between his size and Beorn. Big eyes for a bunny though, Beorn mused when those clear eyes turned back to him.  
  
“I- yes. More than a bit I guess. You are very nak- tall, I mean tall. Very. Tall.”

Beorn snorted. There was no point feeling shame about his lack of clothes. All creatures were brought into the world without them, a few didn’t even have fur. And it was only humans who had decided to be embarrassed by it.

“I’m Bilbo by the way,” his- _the_ little blond man said.  
  
“Beorn.”  
  
“I know. Erm, is it rude to admit that I know?”  
  
“As you’ve already admitted it, does it matter?” Beorn shook his head. “Go home. I appreciate your help, but-”  
  
“You’ll appreciate it even more if you faint from blood loss and I’m around to help you.”  
  
Beorn looked down at his leg. “It’s not that bad.”  
  
“You’re still bleeding.”  
  
“Just barely.”  
  
“You’re limping.”  
  
“It hurts.” Beorn shrugged.

“Which is why you need my help.”  
  
“Which is why I need a painkiller,” Beorn said, telling himself that you should not roll your eyes at people who risked being eaten by a bear to help you. “Do you have any? Or did you leave them where you left your shoes?”  
  
“Someone who is _naked_ should not judge others based on their lack of footwear.”  
  
“You could get hurt,” Beorn rumbled, pretending not to see the very pointed look his leg received. “Step on something.”  
  
“Or into something,” Bilbo murmured. “Who on earth uses traps like that in the first place, never mind is stupid enough to put them this close to a path. I think-”  
  
And just like that Beorn’s bad mood from before came rolling back in like a wave.  
  
None of the people from Dale would ever put out traps like the one he’d stepped in, so it had to be someone from outside the town. And wasn’t it _interesting_ that Bard had just told him about having to deal with one of the big shot hunters coming up from the south, pestering everyone at the town hall in his efforts to get a hunting license, as if there was such a thing as a hunting license in Dale…  
  
No one hunted here. No one put out traps. And no one would ever be so pathetic to go by the moniker ‘Goblin King’. Not even the last mayor would consider that name a good idea, and that was saying quite a lot considering that man’s sense of taste.  
  
“Um, you’re, growling again,” came a hesitant voice from his right. “And since you’re not actually a bear at the moment it is a little strange.” When Beorn looked down at him Bilbo squared his shoulders, looking defiantly up at him. “And don’t think it’s going to make me leave. I’m going to make sure you get home safely first.”  
  
“I can turn into a bear again and bite you,” Beorn said, but he knew he sounded more tired than threatening.

“You could bite me without being a bear. I mean, you have a mouth. And teeth. Albeit not as big. But it’s rather-”  
  
White teeth dug into plush bottom lip as the blond fell silent and was that… that _was_ a blush.  
  
-

“Are you sniffing me?” Bilbo asked, daring to reach out and tap Beorn on the arm. “That’s very rude of you.”  
  
“Wanted to know why you were blushing.”  
  
“You could have asked!” Bilbo protested, feeling his blush bloom even hotter on his cheeks.  
  
It wasn’t his fault that Beorn was naked. And he’d not meant to think about his mouth. Which had lips. Rather nice lips. In fact the only downside with them was that they were a little inconveniently high up and thereby being entirely too far away from-

Bilbo felt his blush spread out over his neck as well. Brilliant.  
  
“People lie,” Beorn shrugged. “But their scent don’t.”  
  
“I just would like to point out that you are very naked,” Bilbo muttered, deciding that he might as well own up to what Beorn must have smelt. “And good looking. And unlike some I’m only human.”

“No bear in you then?” Beorn asked and Bilbo snorted.  
  
“No, not that I know.”  
  
“Would you like some?”  
  
Bilbo stopped so suddenly that he almost fell over. “You did not just say that.”  
  
“You smell like you want me.” And he had the audacity to _shrug_.  
  
“How on earth does that give you the right to propose bestiality,” Bilbo sputtered, feeling fairly relieved when he saw Beorn’s face scrunch up.  
  
“I didn’t mean-”  
  
“And it’s _rude_ to smell people.”  
  
“So you don’t want me?”  
  
“Not as a bear!”  
  
“But like this?”  
  
And Bilbo couldn’t help but look at him again. He (unlike some) was after all only human and Beorn was very naked and very handsome and very handsomely naked. Just Bilbo’s type too, with his dark hair and broad chest and big hands that he wanted to have-  
  
“You are _bleeding_ ,” Bilbo said scrambling to find whatever remained of his dignity and better self. “And not ten minutes ago you were telling me to leave you alone.”  
  
Another shrug. “You didn’t leave me alone.”  
  
Was that supposed to be an answer? “Do you offer to sleep with everyone who-”  
  
“Excuse me,” came a firm but somewhat sheepish voice.

-

This was shaping up to be a day when everyone managed to sneak up on him and was very likely just after midnight so it would also be a long day. Beorn sighed. At least with Lindir he had an excuse as he _did_ have some Fae blood in him.  
  
“Lindir, what are you doing here?”

Lindir moved from the edge of the forest, coming to stand on the path next to Beorn and Bilbo. “I - um,” he glanced at Bilbo. “Bard was _informed_ that you might need some help.”  
  
Ah. Beorn thought he’d heard an owl before. Gossiping little things. Would have been nice if they’d let him know they were going for Bard before flying off. More feathers than sense.

“Bard knows?” When Beorn turned to Bilbo and raised an eyebrow the blond clamped his mouth shut. “Erm, not that there’s anything _to_ know. Just a little… accident. In the forest. And a… fox… yes, took his clothes.”  
  
“Lindir knows,” Beorn snorted. “And yes, as does Bard. Why would a _fox_ take my clothes?”  
  
“Why would you take them off in the first place?” Bilbo replied, crossing his arms and glaring up at him. “It’s not easy trying to come up with something.”  
  
“I know one reason why I’d take my clothes off-”  
  
“Yes, thank you, that’s -” Lindir cleared his throat. “Hello, Bilbo. Nice to see you again. I didn’t know that you two knew each other?”  
  
Beorn glanced at Bilbo, his lips quirking. “We’ve just met.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Wait,” Bilbo stared at Bard in disbelief. “You’re not going to swear me to secrecy? You’re here to give me the shovel talk, aren’t you?”_

When he’d moved to Dale… let’s just say that Bilbo hadn’t imagined that he’d end up walking through the woods at midnight together with an unfairly handsome and very naked man; much less one who could turn into a bear. He’d also not imagined making this walk accompanied by the second of his two landlords, who also happened to be the partner of the local mayor.  
  
Was partner right? Maybe they were married? Bard had just introduced Lindir as Lindir, as if it’d be obvious what he was. And well, the way the two of them looked at each other left little doubt what sort of thing they were to each other, but the exact title thereof was a little more elusive.  
  
And while on the subject of correctness, was it right to say that Beorn could turn into a bear? What if he was actually a bear that could turn into a person? And would Bilbo care if that was the case?   
  
If he didn’t, what did that say about him?  
  
Also…  
  
“How did you know that Beorn needed help?” Bilbo asked Lindir. “If someone from the village went to tell Bard about the trap why didn’t they just help him?”  
  
“Hmm? Oh, well Radagast said that he couldn’t open the trap.”  
  
“Figures it was Radagast,” Beorn snorted. “Never could keep his beak shut.”  
  
“ _Beak_?” Bilbo echoed, looking between his two, annoyingly tall, companions.  
  
“You should be grateful,” Lindir reproached. “And Radagast was quite upset on your behalf. Who would leave traps in the forest?”  
  
“My guess would be the Goblin King,” Beorn growled.   
  
“Oh dear,” Lindir said, graceful movements interrupted by an abrupt stuttering pause that almost made Bilbo stumble into him. “Are you absolutely certain?”  
  
“Who else?”

“Goblin King?” Bilbo asked. “ _Goblins_?”   
  
No one paid him any attention now either, they just kept talking to each other over his head. That was _very_ annoying, and rather alarming. Because _Goblins_.

“I know he has been… _asking,_ repeatedly for leave to hunt here but Bard hasn’t allowed it.”  
  
“‘Course he hasn’t.” Beorn shook his head. “Not looking to blame Bard for this. But I still think it’s King.”  
  
“You’re not certain though.”  
  
“It couldn’t be anyone else.”  
  
“Excuse me!” Bilbo said, stopping on the path, Beorn and Lindir stopping as well. “Can we just take a moment and backtrack here. Goblins? And talking birds and-”  
  
“Who said anything about talking birds?” Lindir asked, looking more than a little guilty.

“Unless this Radagast is a platypus I don’t know any other animals with beaks,” Bilbo said and crossed his arms. “Well octopi I guess. Or is that squids? But since this is a forest…”  
  
Lindir’s eyes looked very large and very liquid when he turned a pleading look at Bilbo. “You must not tell anyone.”  
  
“Of course I’m not going to tell anyone,” Bilbo protested. “Why would I? We have secrets in Hobbiton too.” He went over that sentence again in his head. “No, that's right. Our secrets are mostly just concerning how to grow the best tomatoes or make the perfect strawberry preserves, but they’re still _secrets_.”   
  
Bilbo waved his finger at Lindir. “You think Miss Sandy would have told me her recipe for her price winning pumpkin pie if she hadn’t trusted me to keep it to myself?”  
  
“He looks like a bunny, right?” Beorn told Lindir and Bilbo huffed and just barely refrained from stomping his foot.  
  
“That’s beside the point,” Lindir said after a small pause.  
  
“That means he agrees.”   
  
“Let he who does not turn into a _bear_ throw the first stone,” Bilbo muttered darkly. “But I don’t look like a bunny.”  
  
When Beorn grinned at him it was quite possible that more than a few of Bilbo’s brain cells fainted. This was simply not _fair_.   
  
“Want to stay for breakfast, bunny?”  
  
“You’re injured!” Bilbo sputtered after his remaining brain cells had processed what Beorn actually meant.   
  
“You’re still bleeding!” Lindir protested, sounding like a concerned parent and Bilbo nodded his assent. Of the bleeding, not the parenting. That would be - no.   
  
“I’m fine,” Beorn sighed.  
  
“Yes, I can see that,” Bilbo huffed. “Limping always means you’re fine.”   
  
“I’m fine.” Beorn turned to Lindir. “I swear. You can go home to Bard and the little ones. We’re almost at my house anyway.”   
  
“Are you certain?” Lindir asked after a few moment's hesitation and Beorn nodded.   
  
“Go on. No doubt some puff of feathers will stop by to tell you and Bard all about it anyway.”   
  
“I notice that you didn’t tell me to go,” Bilbo said after Lindir had disappeared back into the forest; in the direction of the town.  
  
“Would you have gone?”  
  
Bilbo did not even deign to reply beyond folding his arms over his chest.

“That’s why,” Beorn concluded and as if there was a given signal they both started to walk again. “I’ve got a spare bed, if you want to stay. Might have to share with a cat or two. Or three.”  
  
“You’ve got cats?”  
  
“That’s what you’re choosing to be surprised about?” Beorn asked, chuckling a little. “Strange choice.”  
  
“You just seem more like a dog person,” Bilbo defended and Beorn’s chuckle turned into something rather close to a laugh.  
  
“If you’re coming home with me you might as well stay. You shouldn’t walk home alone anyway, not when there’s someone like the Goblin King about.”  
  
“About that,” Bilbo said. “ _Goblins_? Are there Goblins?”  
  
“Nah,” Beorn shook his head. “It’s just what he calls himself. His last name is King.”  
  
“And I repeat, _Goblins_?”  
  
-  
  
Bilbo didn’t really get an answer to that question. But he got a bed, one mostly free of cats, and Beorn lent him a shirt to sleep in, and after glaring a newly bandaged bear-turned-human into bed Bilbo did retire for the night.  
  
Immediately after doing so his mostly cat-free bed acquired two more cats, for a total of three.  
  
“I know Beorn’s a big man,” Bilbo muttered at the cat trying to claim his pillow for itself. “But I’m not going to believe you if you tell me that there’s no room for you in his bed.”  
  
“Room for a bunny!”  
  
Bilbo’s eyes widened. “Just how good is your hearing!”  
  
“Good enough that you don’t need to yell!”  
  
“You’re yelling!”  
  
“Because you don’t actually have bunny ears!”

One of the cats meowed.   
  
“She agrees! But also thinks you look like a bunny!”  
  
“You can’t actually talk to cats, can you? He can’t, can he?” Bilbo asked the pillow-stealing one.  
  
There was no reply, not from the cat nor from Beorn. But it was not long before Bilbo heard the floorboards creak and it wasn’t dark enough that he couldn’t see most of the doorway being taken up by a looming Beorn. A still very much naked, looming Beorn, because a bandaged leg did not clothing make, and the pants he’d put on before were now mysteriously absent.  
  
“I like you,” Beorn smiled, and Bilbo was still a grown man and not a teenager, so he wasn’t blushing.  
  
“I’d like you in _bed_ ,” Bilbo said as he sat up, no sooner done speaking before he realised what that must have sounded like. “I mean, for you to go to bed. Alone. To Sleep. Now.”  
  
Beorn’s smile widened. “Good night then.”

After he’d gone Bilbo sighed and nudged the grumpily chirping cat until he got at least some of the pillow for himself.  
  
For several long moments he just lay in bed, staring up at the wooden ceiling, mind empty. Then everything came rushing back. What on earth had possessed him to approach a wounded bear in the first place? And then that bear turned into Beorn? And talking birds? _Goblins_! Not to mention that the shirt he’d borrowed smelled much too nice and how his head was surrounded by purring balls of fur.

This was an entirely absurd situation and Bilbo whispered as much to the cat now licking at his hair.  
  
In reply he received a particularly happy purr and continued grooming, but he wasn’t sure how to interpret that sort of response.  
  
-

Breakfast was almost alarmingly normal, not to mention domestic.  
  
Bilbo had dressed in the same clothes he’d been wearing the night before, and Beorn did apparently own clothes since he was now contributing to the alarmingly normal image, dressed as he was in blue denims and a flannel shirt over a black t-shirt. And pants too, Bilbo assumed.

He was still unfairly handsome.  
  
All but one of the cats had disappeared somewhere; the remaining one - Mina according to Beorn - had decided to stay as she’d fallen in love with Bilbo’s hair. This was also according to Beorn. But considering that Mina had been the pillow-stealing hair-grooming one he might have a point.  
  
“Just look at her,” Beorn said, nodding down to where Mina was sitting patiently beside Bilbo’s chair, her ears and tail perked up and her eyes fixed on Bilbo’s head. “Pining away.”  
  
The cat meowed softly, yearningly.

Putting his teacup down on the table Bilbo sighed and leaned back in his chair. Looking down at Mina he patted his thigh. “Come on then.”  
  
With a happy little cluck Mina jumped up into his lap, and braced her paws against his shoulder.  
  
“Mreow?”

“She’s quite a bright one,” Bilbo remarked as he supported her backside with the crook of his right arm, holding the cat steady as she twined around his neck to start dealing with his curls once again.  
  
“They all are,” Beorn said quietly, and quite proudly. “And good judges of character.”  
  
“She’s vouched for my hair then,” Bilbo said, twitching a little as Mina sneezed into the back of his neck.   
  
“Come back for dinner tonight.”  
  
Bilbo raised an eyebrow. “Is that an invitation or an order?”  
  
“A most humble request.” Beorn grinned. “Your shirt is too large. You need to eat more.”  
  
Ignoring that comment Bilbo just looked at Beorn and tried to understand. “First you just wanted me to go, and now you want me to come back. Why?”  
  
For a few moment the only sound in the room was Mina’s happy purring and the raspy sound of her tongue on Bilbo’s hair.   
  
“I didn’t know I’d like you,” Beorn said. “But I do, and I’d like to know you better. Like to have you in my bed too, if you’d be willing.” One corner of Beorn’s mouth twitched upwards, dispersing the serious look he’d been wearing. “Like have you in places that’s not my bed too, just for the record.”  
  
“I’m attracted to you,” Bilbo admitted. “Which you know since you _smelled_ me.”  
  
“Does that mean you’ll have dinner with me?” Beorn rested one elbow on the table. “I meant it, the part about getting to know you better.”  
  
“And you’re not just looking for blackmail material so I’ll keep quiet about what I’ve seen?” Bilbo asked, only half-joking.  
  
“Already got it,” Beorn rumbled and Bilbo blinked at him. “You tell people I can turn into a bear and I’ll just tell them you’re secretly a bunny.”  
  
-  
  
There were more people out and about at nine in morning compared to midnight, but Bilbo’s lack of shoes didn’t really earn him more than a few curious looks, which… honestly it was a little unsettling.   
  
Bilbo had only been home – and oh dear gods he was already thinking of it as home – long enough to shower and change his clothes when someone knocked on the door.  
  
“Bard,” Bilbo said as he opened it, surprised, but perhaps he shouldn’t have been. “Come in, please.”  
  
“It’s a little strange to be invited into this house,” Bard admitted as he stepped over the threshold.   
  
“Ah.” Bilbo winced a little. “Sorry?”  
  
“It’s all right,” Bard said with a small smile. “I’m glad it’s not empty. Well,” he added, looking around. “You do need more furniture.”  
  
“I’m going to guess that’s not what you came here to talk about?” Bilbo said, gesturing Bard into the living room where he did have a couch, thank you very much. “I won’t say anything about Beorn, I promise you.”  
  
“He said that you wouldn’t,” Bard shrugged. “And also that you’re going to have _dinner_ with him tonight.”

“Wait,” Bilbo stared at Bard in disbelief. “You’re not going to swear me to secrecy? You’re here to give me the _shovel talk,_ aren’t you?”  
  
“Beorn doesn’t date.”

“Oh, so the dinner tonight is a ruse?” Bilbo plonked himself down on the couch without waiting for Bard. “Am I perhaps to be sacrificed to the gods of the forest?”  
  
“Don’t be silly,” Bard sighed as he too sat down, the couch dipping beneath his weight. “We don’t do that here anymore.”  
  
“The fact that I don’t know if you’re joking or not worries me,” Bilbo murmured.  
  
“Just be careful, Bilbo.”  
  
“And that’s also worrying.”  
  
“I mean with Beorn.”  
  
“As I said.”  
  
Bard sighed. “I just mean that he doesn’t usually invite people he’s just met to dinner.”

“Well I did save him,” Bilbo pointed out. “Oh no,” he added as the thought occurred to him. “He’s not doing this because I saved him is he? Though I guess - just after he’d turned back he was certainly grumpy enough, so probably not.”

“The trap, yes,” Bard said, his brown furrowing. “That is not good news.”  
  
“While on this subject,” Bilbo said, looking beseechingly at Bard. “The Goblin King. _Goblins_?”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“That’s also worrying,” Bilbo sighed and leaned back against the couch. “So along with the existence of shape shifters, there’re apparently goblins roaming the forest?”   
  
Maybe Beorn had been right about wandering around alone. If there were actual goblins Bilbo definitely wouldn’t be going for any more nightly walks. But then Bilbo could – selflessly of course – volunteer to wander the forest _with_ Beorn, so that solved the problem of being alone nicely. And he’d be there in case Beorn got into trouble again, which was a plus.   
  
They could also get to know each other better on these walks. Unless Beorn was in his bear form and unable to speak… If he was going to be on all fours and grunting Bilbo rather preferred him to be human, and for there to be a bed involved.

“Uh, goblins don’t exist.” Bard gave him an odd look and Bilbo hoped that it was in fact goblin related and not because Bard had read his mind about Beorn. At this point he was prepared for just about anything to happen. “Not in the sense that you’re thinking,” Bard continued. “It’s just a name.”

“I thought King was supposed to be his name.”   
  
Right? That was what Beorn had told him, though he hadn’t answered any follow-up questions. Bilbo thought he ought to be grateful that Bard, at least, was considerate enough to explain things properly.

“King is his name. Goblin is a… cruel nickname. An insult, really, but this fellow seems to like it.”

O-kayyy. There were stranger people in the world. Probably. “And he’s a hunter?” Bilbo asked, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “One who thinks that bear traps are appropriate?”

“Yeah. And no hunting is allowed in Dale.” Bard rubbed his forehead. “Even if it was, there’s a reason why I’d not letting him do so here.”

“The bear traps?” Bilbo asked, because really, that was such a horrible thing to use on anything living.

“Yes, but there are also other… dubious methods he’s been known to use.” Bard shook his head. “That man is nothing bad news. I’ll inform the local police so they know to look for him. With any luck he’s already left town, the traps could have been placed there while he was still hoping I’d approve a hunting license for him.” He looked sternly at Bilbo. “But until we know it’s best if you stay out of the forest.”  
  
“I feel like you’re grounding me,” Bilbo pointed out. “After first telling me I shouldn’t date. Did I miss the part where you adopted me?”  
  
“Technically you _are_ living beneath my roof,” Bard mused. 

“Ah, but I’m paying _you_ , not getting an allowance.”  
  
Bard made a sound half-between a snort and chuckle and got up from the couch. “I better get back home before you talk me into giving you one. Just don’t go wandering in the woods, all right? And try and make Beorn promise the same. He can handle having only two legs for a bit.”

“Just one more question…” Bilbo rose as well.

“Yeah?”

“Can you _really_ talk to birds?”

-

Deciding what to wear to dinner with Beorn took up a little too large a part of Bilbo’s day.   
  
Another chunk of it was spent asking himself if he really knew what he was doing. He’d come to Dale to... well to be honest he’d just wanted a change of scenery. Something new, perhaps even something exciting. An adventure. A small one, mind. Meeting someone who could turn into a bear… that was a bigger adventure than Bilbo could even have imagined.   
  
Being inconveniently attracted to said person was also a bit more than Bilbo had expected from his change of scenery. Especially considering how immediate and strong said attraction had been.  
  
He’d been living on his own for so long that he’d rather supposed that he’d stay a bachelor the rest of his life. But it had been awfully nice to wake up in a house inhabited by someone other than him, and by Beorn in particular.

Distracted by his reveries Bilbo ended up spilling water all over himself as he was watering his plants, and after having failed to dry himself with the hairdryer, and with the resulting, returning, turmoil regarding what to wear now Bilbo almost ended up being late for dinner.  
  
Beorn still looked happy enough to see him as he opened the door.  
  
“Come in.”  
  
“No cats?” Bilbo remarked as he stepped inside.  
  
“I’ve asked them to give us some privacy.”

“When you say _asked_ …”  
  
Beorn’s laugh rumbled very pleasingly, and Bilbo couldn’t help but smile at him.  
  
“I can’t actually talk to them," Beorn admitted. "Not really. But I’d like to think we have an understanding. And bribery usually works.”  
  
Bilbo had worn shoes this time and he kicked them off and followed Beorn into the kitchen where the table was already set.  
  
“Something smells wonderful,” he breathed, his stomach making an agreeing rumble.

“I’m a vegetarian, I hope you don’t mind.”  
  
“Not if I get to eat whatever it is that smells like that. Wait,” Bilbo added. “I had a cheese and ham sandwich this morning. Ham is not vegetarian.”  
  
“It’s for the cats,” Beorn said with a crooked grin. “I buy it locally. From a farmer that takes good care of her animals.”  
  
“So technically you gave me cat food,” Bilbo smiled to show that he was teasing.  
  
“And now I’ll be giving you rabbit food, little bunny.”  
  
“I would have expected it to be bear food. And I’m not a bunny.”  
  
“Sit,” Beorn said, nodding at the table. “Get yourself something to drink. I’ll get the food.”  
  
“I think you meant, ‘No, of course you’re not a bunny, Bilbo.”  
  
“I’ll get the food,” Beorn said, smiling over his shoulder as he walked to the stove.  
  
Huffing a little Bilbo sat down, taking his revenge by watching Beorn’s arse as he fiddled with whatever the pot of delicious smelling stuff was. It backfired a little, and to distract himself he poured himself some juice, only half-listening to what Beorn said next.  
  
“I’m not always a vegetarian.”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
Beorn turned around again and the smile had widened into a broad grin. Bilbo would have called it wolfish, if he hadn’t known about the bear bit. Feeling a bit... _warm_ , Bilbo lifted his glass and took a large gulp, not at all expecting what Beorn said next.  
  
“I just mean that there’s certain types of meat I don’t mind in my mouth. Bunny sausage, we can call it.”  
  
Bilbo choked, and in the process of coughing up a lung (as well as some juice) he ended up tipping over the glass of juice, and not to mention also putting his right arm in the resulting puddle.   
  
Blinking away the tears that had gathered in his eyes Bilbo looked back at Beorn, who looked stunned.   
  
Brilliant.


	3. Chapter 3

“You’ve not told me what brings you to Dale.”   
  
It wasn’t the most original of questions, and he probably should have asked it at the beginning of the meal, but Beorn figured they’d already had their fair share of originality during their first meeting and if he turned to clichés now it would all even out.  
  
There had also not been much of an opportunity to ask before, as there’d not been any real lull in their conversation; which was more than Beorn had hoped for after he’d all but made Bilbo choke to death on apple juice almost immediately after he’d arrived.   
  
Fortunately Bilbo had only messed up his shirt and after Beorn had gone to fetch him one of his… yeah… It was quite telling that Bilbo had then disappeared into the spare room to change. He’d had an undershirt on beneath the wet shirt but he’d still gone to hide himself away. Hide himself away from Beorn.  
  
Beorn wasn’t sure if he could blame it all on the sausage joke or if it was a combination of things that had made Bilbo uncomfortable (he knew other people weren’t always as forthright about things as he was) but either way Beorn was pretty sure that he had in fact gone and fucked things up, with remarkable speed even.   
  
To try and make things right again Beorn tried his best to stop looking at Bilbo like he wanted to tear his clothes off (something that was even harder after he’d changed into Beorn’s shirt – a shirt which _should_ look ridiculous on him but made Beorn want to do all sorts of things that weren’t fit to share with polite company). Backing off seemed to be working though, as they’d actually managed to have a very enjoyable conversation during dinner.   
  
Not only was Bilbo not bothered when Beorn’s replies were not so much words as just agreeing or disagreeing hums, he also shared many of Beorn’s interests, like gardening, and there’d not been a lack of things for them to talk about. Until now. And normally Beorn wouldn’t have minded a bit of silence, but just because Bilbo wasn’t talking did it mean that he was _silent_.

The main reason for Beorn’s less than inspired question was that he needed to say something, anything, and coming up with something more clever was a little ha- _difficult_ for him at the moment.   
  
The continuous loop of happy pornographic noises that Bilbo had made while eating had been bad enough, and now it seemed that the sounds were at their peak. Talking made Bilbo stop them, at least for a little while.

All in all, considering that thinking about anything besides clearing the table to make enough room to fuck Bilbo on top of it was proving more and more difficult, it wasn’t really that bad of a question. At least he’d avoided the weather.  
  
Beorn didn’t even know when he’d last been affected like this by someone. If it’d ever happened before. But… he’d checked, subtly this time, and Bilbo didn’t have that sweet-spicy aroused smell at all, (still smelled fantastic but…) so Beorn continued to reel in any and all instincts demanding that he’d really give Bilbo something to moan about. He wasn’t actually an animal after all.  
  
“Oh, I’m a writer,” Bilbo said in response to Beorn’s question. “I can do my job from just about anywhere that has my laptop and an internet connection.” Bilbo pointed his spoon at him. “And to tell the truth I was looking for a bit of an adventure you see. Only, I think I didn’t quite know what I was asking for.”

“Were you looking for something more classic?” Beorn asked, figuring that if he kept asking Bilbo questions he’d perhaps do most of the talking, and less of the moaning. “Save a princess and slay a dragon?”  
  
“I have to say I didn’t think save the bear would be an option.” Bilbo’s eyes closed as he ate the next spoonful of dessert, which was just ice cream with strawberries and some honey drizzled over it, but… considering the noises coming from his mouth it might as well have been a blow job.

A pink tongue flicked out to sweep away a drop of ice cream clinging to a plush bottom lip and Bilbo made a small happy groan. In Beorn’s trousers his cock throbbed with great annoyance over being trapped and subjected to this kind of torture.  
  
“Though if I don’t have to slay any dragons I’ll be all the happier for it,” Bilbo finished and smiled, moving on to a story about a friend who owned snakes and why he didn’t really trust them not to try and eat him if they had the chance.  
  
Beorn made a small mumbling noise to show he was still listening. Fuck. He needed to get a grip. A better grip. (One not related to his and/or Bilbo’s cock.) It’d been quite clear before that Bilbo thought he was coming on a little too strong, or a lot, and that was fair enough.   
  
Just because you were attracted to someone didn’t mean that you really wanted them to shag you on top of the nearest reasonably flat surface, or that you wanted to climb in their lap and -  
  
Beorn deliberately knocked the injured part of his leg against the table, biting back a grunt of pain.  
  
It helped. Hurt as hell, but at least it made his erection think twice about what it was doing.  
  
They got through the rest of the dessert without Beorn making an even bigger fool of himself but as Bilbo leaned back and thanked him for a lovely dinner Beorn couldn’t quite supress his frown. It just sounded so final, and as if Bilbo was planning on leaving, and Beorn didn’t want him to.   
  
“Go into the living room, I’ll clean up here.”  
  
“Is that another humble request?” Bilbo bit his lip, one corner of his mouth quirked up slightly, and Beorn rose to his feet so he’d have a reason to look away from that much too tempting sight.   
  
-  
  
“Sure.”  
  
Beorn’s voice was low and he’d not even turned to look at him. At least he’d not asked him to leave.   
  
Bilbo hid a sigh and got up from his chair. He knew he wasn’t anything special but if Beorn had already begun to lose interest in him that would be a new record. Though he’d never managed to all but drown himself in apple juice on a first date before, so perhaps that factored into it. ‘It’ being how Beorn had gotten more and more quiet and tense-looking throughout dinner.   
  
“I’ll just be…” Bilbo waved in the direction of the living room, which was entirely pointless as Beorn still wasn’t looking at him. “Over there, then,” Bilbo finished, not able to entirely hide his sigh this time.  
  
“Good,” Beorn said, filling the sink with hot water, and Bilbo glanced down at the larger man’s arse to try and cheer himself up but it didn’t quite work this time, even if it was still a great arse (which wasn’t detracted by being covered by denim, considering that he’d seen it in the flesh, as it were). Swallowing another sigh Bilbo turned around and trotted into the living room.

He’d just gotten a glimpse of the room the night before, and for a while Bilbo kept himself occupied with looking around. He wasn’t snooping. Just… looking. Beorn had a lovely home, quite literally as almost all the things in it had an air of being loved floating around them. From the carefully carved decorations on the thick wooden beams supporting the ceiling down to the well-worn but spotless hand-woven carpets on the floor.

It was better not to wonder if Beorn would apply the same amount of care and attention to all other aspects of his life.  
  
When Beorn walked into the room Bilbo had settled down in the middle of the couch, with plenty of space on either side of him for Beorn, but after a long look at him Beorn instead settled down on the only armchair in the room.  
  
Right. That was -  
  
Bilbo fiddled with the sleeve of his borrowed shirt, still slightly too long for him even after he’d rolled it up.  
  
Perhaps… perhaps he should just kiss Beorn? That way he’d know for sure if the other man was still interested. It was a bit unfair that Beorn could just use his nose to find out such things when Bilbo had to depend on body language, which so far wasn’t very promising.

Anyway, having Beorn sitting down provided a good opportunity to kiss him without needing to climb up on something first. Bilbo had no desire to embarrass himself further. Also meaning that he really hoped that Beorn wouldn’t mind a kiss. Or two. Or-  
  
Everything had seemed so much simpler last night. At least before Bilbo had started to demand answers from cats. But yes, he _was_ going to kiss Beorn. It might be the only opportunity he would get before Beorn truly realised that Bilbo was just as awkward as he’d begun to suspect.  
  
-  
  
As Bilbo got up from the couch Beorn just barely refrained from telling him to sit back down again. He was going to leave now, and Beorn was _not_ going tell him that he couldn’t because he wasn’t that far removed from what was deemed to be socially acceptable.   
  
Something had changed, only Beorn wasn’t sure what. Bilbo hadn’t really said anything since Beorn had joined him in the living room, he’d just kept fiddling with his fingers, looking as if he was having a very intense debate with himself. And he smelled nervous. He hadn’t smelled nervous last night after finding out Beorn was a bear, so what was different?  
  
Yeah. Beorn wasn’t sure what he’d done but he must have done something to make Bilbo this uncomfortable, even though he’d not even been in the room.   
  
It had… it had started after he’d told Bilbo to come in here, the nervous smell, so Bilbo very likely didn’t want to be here. At all. So he’d leave now. And probably not come back. Ever. Because why should he?

“Beorn?” Beorn looked up to find that Bilbo had come closer. He really did walk with remarkable silence. “I-”  
  
“Anyone home!?”

“What the hell?” Beorn growled, standing up and trying - and failing - not to notice how Bilbo took a step backwards, away from him. At least it was a step away from the doorway as much as it was a step away from Beorn, so when people began to march into the room Beorn was standing between Bilbo and them.

“Well, well.”   
  
Beorn’s eyes narrowed when he saw who had just appeared in the doorway. The Goblin King grinned broadly at the both of them as he squeezed his ample body between the half-dozen people wearing camouflage patterned clothes who were blocking the doorway leading in from the hall. They carried a strange smell about them, one that put Beorn on even higher alert.  
  
“I didn’t know Mister Bear kept a Goldilocks here.” King affected a surprised expression. “Is this the wrong house? I was told that the person I was looking for didn’t enjoy company. Or… instead of person I should perhaps say _bear_?” He winked at Beorn. “No wait, I already did say that, didn’t I, _Mister Bear_?”  
  
Out of the corner of his eye Beorn saw Bilbo twitch, but the blond didn’t say anything, for which Beorn was thankful. Best if he kept quiet and out of sight, that way he’d not get hurt.  
  
“Get out of my house,” Beorn demanded, taking a step forward, firmly putting himself between Bilbo and the others.  
  
“Ah ah,” King warned, waggling a thick finger. “Boys?”

Suddenly there was entirely too much metal in the room, and Beorn’s eyes flicked between the guns the six men were holding, nostrils widening as he smelled the harsh oily smell of them. So that’s what that stink had been; to be honest, it reminded him of the trap he’d been stuck in last night. As he breathed in a second time he could smell something a fair bit stronger than nervousness coming from Bilbo. They’d scared his bunny.  
  
Beorn growled again when King angled his head to look around him.  
  
“Hello there,” King said to Bilbo, smile wide and insincere. “Don’t worry, you won’t get hurt as long as you don’t get involved with the hunt.”  
  
“Hunt?” Bilbo echoed and King nodded.   
  
-  
  
“I’m always looking for interesting, unique animals to take back to my home, and a lovely big bear pelt would be just the thing. Right by the fire.” Obviously this was the Goblin King everyone had been talking about, and it was clear how he’d earned the name.   
  
It wasn’t that he wasn’t handsome, people didn’t need to be handsome to be good-looking even if that might sound a little strange. No, there was something else that made Bilbo want to recoil just at the sight of him, even as another part wanted to rush forward and in front of Beorn. Beorn wasn’t an _animal_.

“There aren’t any bears here,” Bilbo said firmly, without looking at Beorn. Well, not directly at him at least. There was a lot of him, and not that big of a room, and he was standing mostly in front of Bilbo, so -   
  
“But there could be a bear, couldn’t there?” the horrible man asked. “I’m sure there could be one. If our friend here would just… cooperate a little. Make the magic happen.”

Bilbo tried to keep his panic at bay, pushing as much flatness into his voice as possible. “Magic.”

“Magic,” King repeated. His smile was as horrid as the rest of him.

Beorn didn’t say anything, but the way his fists were clenched and his shoulders were drawn tight, it looked like he was just seconds away from launching himself forward. Given all the guns pointing at him, this would be a Very Bad decision.

Bilbo could keep him talking though, stall for time while a solution to this problem presented itself. He’d once distracted a druggie with a game of riddles. This would be just like that. Except there’d be no policemen to come to his and Beorn’s rescue… but never mind that for now.

“You guys don’t _really_ believe in magic, do you?” He scoffed. “Next thing you’re going to babble about Dwarves and Wizards and Trolls.”

“No need to be rude. You’ll just have to _bear_ with me.” There was a long moment of silence before one of the cronies caught on and started laughing. The Goblin King expanded with smug pride when the rest of them joined in.

Bilbo’s eye twitched. “Even if he could turn into a bear – which is still ridiculous by the way, I have no idea where you even got that idea – you have no right hunting here! It’s not allowed and you’ve not got special permission to do so!”  
  
A lack of hunting licence might not be a good reason not to kill someone who was actually a person, but at this point all arguments were good arguments. Anything to keep this man talking and not shooting.

“I’ve got a _perfectly_ valid hunting license!” King protested. “I just _forgot_ that I had one.” This time the wide grin seemed a little more genuine. “The old mayor was just so much more helpful, don’t you think?”  
  
“I’ve never met him,” Bilbo said. “But from what I’ve heard helpful is not the word I would use.” Even Lindir had nothing good to say about him and that was quite telling.  
  
“You’re quite mistaken then, my little friend,” King giggled. “He is very helpful indeed, and his assistant as well. Lovely lad, that one. Told me all sorts of interesting things.”  
  
“Alfrid is a liar,” Beorn rumbled. “He’d lie to his own mother if it would mean money in his pocket.”  
  
“I’m not going to argue with you,” King sniffed. “But I informed him what would happened if he lied to me. He didn’t strike me as a brave man, but he persisted in telling me that you would make a lovely rug.”  
  
“You can’t really believe him?” Bilbo took a step forward only to be stopped by Beorn’s arm. “No,” Bilbo said, looking up at Beorn and shaking his head. “It’s… I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous.”  
  
Which would have been true, if he’d been saying those words 24 hours ago. So it wasn’t a lie as much as a truth misplaced in time.  
  
King shrugged. “I’ve got nothing to lose. They were happy with money. I have no use for it.” He looked at Beorn and the horrid smile spread out over his face once more. “All I need is your head on my wall and your fur on my floor.”  
  
“But -” Bilbo tried.  
  
“Oh, if I turn out to be mistaken I’ll of course apologise,” King said and nodded. “Accidents do happen. And then I’ll have a new hunt, for a weasel, because you do not lie to the Goblin King and get away with it. Do you have any family?” he added to Beorn. “I can leave them some money, or it can be used for the funeral if you’re not actually a bear.”

Right, so that would now have been the most ridiculous thing Bilbo had ever heard if it hadn’t also chilled him down to his bones at the same time.  
  
“Fuck. Off,” Beorn said and King frowned.  
  
“How rude. And I don’t think you’re in a position to make any orders.” He looked back at his men. “My gun please.”  
  
Bilbo’s eyes widened. That was a big gun. He thought it was a shotgun, but he wasn’t actually sure what the difference between a shotgun and a rifle was. If there was a difference. Either way it was large and menacing, not that you’d know it from the way King handled it; tapping the butt against the floor as if it was a walking stick and he was thinking about going for a walk.  
  
-

“I think you should turn into a bear now.”                                                     
  
Beorn didn’t move. He wanted to grab Bilbo and tuck him away behind himself once again, but that was perhaps not the safest place for him. Not if bullets was going to start flying.

“NOW!” King shouted, surprising Beorn and making Bilbo flinch as neither of them had expected the sudden change in tone and volume. Nor had they expected what would happen as the end of King’s gun was pounded against the floor as emphasis.  
  
The sound of the shot made Beorn’s ears ring, and for a few moments afterwards everything was unnaturally silent. Then the world came flooding back in.   
  
“- leave some money for that as well,” King said, his men snickering behind him.  
  
“Your roof,” Bilbo breathed and Beorn flicked his eyes up for a quick look before snapping his attention back to King, baring his teeth at the miserable excuse for a man. If one blast from that thing actually managed to make a hole in his roof then it would tear even bigger holes in Bilbo and himself if King aimed it at them.

“I’m not seeing anyone turning into a _bear_ ,” King singsonged.

“Let him go first,” Beorn said, staring at King while nodding down at Bilbo. “We’re too far away from anyone else for him to go and get help anyway. So don’t hurt him, and let him go. Then I’ll do what you want.” Only not really. But he didn’t want to attack while Bilbo was still there, he didn’t want Bilbo hurt accidentally or deliberately.  
  
“What? No!” Bilbo protested. “I’m not leaving you.”  
  
“Is he your boyfriend?” King asked Bilbo. “Heh, _bear_ friend!” Again it took a while before his companions caught on, but when it came King revelled in their laughter nonetheless.  
  
“I’m not leaving,” Bilbo whispered, pressing himself closer to Beorn, and despite wanting nothing more than to wrap around him Beorn shook his head and gently pushed Bilbo away.  
  
“You -”  
  
The sound of flapping made Beorn look up in time to see the familiar round face of Radagast peer down from the hole in the roof. And Beorn heard more wings, so he wasn’t alone. Then came the sound of more shots fired.  
  
“What are they doing _now_?” King muttered, and he didn’t need to wait long before another one of his minions burst inside the room.   
  
“Boss, there’s birds on the roof! You know what the Alfrid bloke said about birds! They’ll tell on us! Some have already flown away!”  
  
Beorn just barely stopped himself from cursing. He had a pretty good idea about what Alfrid might have said, but he’d never realised just how much that greedy little coward knew. No one would have said a word to him, so to know about the shape-shifting and gossiping birds he had to have been snooping around. _Spying_. What else could he have found out?

“All of you go after them!” King shouted, waving his free hand around. “Kill every single feathery menace, I’m not letting anyone interrupt before I’m done here.”

“But boss -!”

“NOW!!!”  
  
Seeing as King’s attention was on the men trying to shove their way out of the door, and their attention was on each other, Beorn took a step forward. If he could get his arm around King’s neck -

“Ah, ah!”   
  
Beorn hesitated when he saw a revolver aimed his way, and he stopped dead when the gleaming barrel was moved to point at Bilbo.   
  
-  
  
“Isn’t the hole in the roof enough? Do you really want one in your little friend here as well?”

Bilbo didn’t know whether to protest being called ‘little’ or ‘friend’. Maybe he ought to protest having a gun pointed at him. Or the fact that King twirled it around as if to show off how clever he was. There was a stray hope that it’d drop from his hand, but that one might go off as well, and that might not end well.  
  
But to speak would be to draw attention to himself, and for the moment King was entirely occupied by his staring contest with Beorn, and all the other people had filed out of the room. This could be the perfect opportunity.

Bilbo could move very silently when he wanted to, and now he began to inch away. He didn’t even need to go for the gun, which would have been trickier, just get away from it. That way Beorn could make a -

“Not so fast, Goldilocks.”  
  
The metallic clicking sound was one that Bilbo recognized from countless films, and he stopped.

“You know I don’t have to kill you straightaway, right?” King shook his head as if he couldn’t fathom how silly Bilbo was acting. “I can just shoot you in the leg, make your bear friend here listen to your screams. Let’s see how long he disobeys me then.”

“Don’t hurt him,” Beorn growled. “You don’t even touch him.”

“Oh I’m sorry, I thought I was the one with the guns.” King tilted his head to the side. “No I was right, I _am_ the one with the guns. I _am_ the one making the orders here.” He sighed. “And since you’re having some trouble listening to those orders –”  
  
Bilbo yelped as King pulled the trigger, and for a moment he wasn’t sure if he’d been shot or not.  
  
“Would you look at that? I missed.” King grinned. “Sorry about the lamp. That won’t happen again. Now, let’s not dally anymore. You change into a bear or what happens next won’t be enjoyable for anyone. Except for me.”

“Don’t hurt him,” Bilbo said, glancing over at Beorn who, except for rather heavy breathing, was still enough to look like a statue.  
  
“I won’t hurt him… much. I don’t want to ruin the pelt. That’s why I have my little baby here instead of my big darling.” King tapped the butt shotgun against the ground again, this time without any accidents. “But you…” he continued, looking at Bilbo. “You I will hurt quite a lot unless I see someone turn into a bear soon!”  
  
“You’ll let him go?” Beorn asked.  
  
“No,” Bilbo protested.   
  
“Shush, little one,” King said. “You have my word. Cross my heart and hope you die.”  
  
“So let him go now.”  
  
“That’s not how I do business.”  
  
“At least across the room,” Beorn said. “He can’t stand next to me.”  
  
“He can’t?” King asked. “What happens? Will you eat him if he stays? Oh fine,” he added when Beorn glowered at him. “Come here, Goldilocks. Come stand here by me so I can keep an eye on you, but no funny business.”  
  
A big hand pressed against Bilbo’s back and he looked up at Beorn, feeling entirely helpless.  
  
“Sorry,” Beorn said, and Bilbo wanted so badly to stretch up and take that kiss he’d not gotten to try before, but Beorn was already pushing him forward and Bilbo’s feet were moving without asking him first and then the moment was gone.  
  
-  
  
Beorn wasn’t sure when he’d last shifted into bear-form in front of someone. The other way around it had of course been with Bilbo, less than a day ago, and he didn’t mind that Bilbo would see this too. But of course they weren’t alone.  
  
“At last I will have the best kill of my career!”  
  
King was incredibly hard to ignore, but Beorn still tried his best as he felt his body twist and change, stretch and widen.  
  
“You will make a great rug my friend, and a great decoration on my wall. Or should I just have you stuffed?”  
  
And since he was only looking at Bilbo, Beorn saw something that the great Goblin didn’t.   
  
That something was Bilbo grabbing the large glass bowl from the bottom shelf on the bookcase. It had belonged to Beorn’s mother, and despite never using it he’d not been able to part with it. It was heavy enough that he saw Bilbo’s eyes widen in surprise when he lifted it, but he managed.   
  
Then came the moment when Bilbo realised that he was too short to smash the bowl into King’s head.

Ah. It looked like neither of them had even considered that.

Beorn hunched over, now having to be on all fours; as much from the ceiling being too close and a shift in balance, and he wished that Bilbo wasn’t so stubborn and would just run away now that that _damn_ hunter was distracted. His plan right now was to spring forward just as he’d finished transforming. It wouldn’t matter if the gun went off; only the ‘little baby’ was pointing at him, Beorn could probably bear the pain of a small bullet. If he was fast enough he’d be able to get to King without being injured. That Bilbo was safe was the most important-

A heavy smash of glass caught Beorn’s attention, followed quickly by a loud curse. He had the time to look up and see King scowling, turning and crunching the remains of the bowl under his boots, throwing the revolver aside and lifting his rifle –

But instead of a large bang there came a quieter thunk as a large book hit King right in the face, quickly followed by another one, and as the hunter hit the floor; unconscious, Beorn wished he could have covered his ears because the resulting bang was almost as loud as the sound from the gun before.  
  
“I can’t believe that worked,” Bilbo breathed before sinking down to sit on the floor. When the small man began to giggle Beorn made a concerned grunt. “We did it!” Bilbo managed to get out between fits of laughter. “Crime, and _punishment_!”  
  
Ah. Beorn glanced at the book. So that was the one.  
  
Shaking himself Beorn changed back, quickly getting back up on his feet again so he could hurry over to the still giggling Bilbo. 

“There is nothing wrong with the classics!” Bilbo snickered as Beorn quickly grabbed the revolver and shotgun, hiding them beneath the couch, just in case King would wake up again. “Don’t trust anyone who’d - oh hello.”  
  
“I’m not leaving you in the same room as him,” Beorn rumbled as he straightened up, now with Bilbo in his arms. He weighed next to nothing. “I’m - _we’re_ going to go and get rope.”  
  
“Are we tying him up?” Bilbo asked. “I’m good at that.”

Beorn blinked down at him.  
  
“I got a badge,” Bilbo said earnestly. It was hard not to press forward and kiss him, especially since his face was now so close to Beorn’s. “When I was twelve, for my excellent knot-tying skills. I think I still remember how to do it.”   
  
Right. Not tying people up as in - Of course not.

Would’ve been interesting, though.   
  
“You’re naked again,” Bilbo remarked as Beorn put him down in the kitchen. “Where do your clothes go when you turn into a bear?”

“Somewhere else,” Beorn muttered as he pulled out the bottom drawer, collecting a large ball of strong but thin rope that he used for various things in the garden. He didn’t actually know what happened with his clothes, which meant that usually he undressed before shifting. That still was something of a problem, because that meant picking between going naked out into the woods, or undressing in the woods and having to spend time chasing down various animals thinking that his clothes made for excellent nesting material. Come to think of it, the bit about the fox before hadn’t been _that_ farfetched.   
  
Bilbo chuckled again and Beorn sent him a worried look.  
  
“Are you all right?”  
  
“I’m not certain,” Bilbo said. “Can I get back to you on that one?”  
  
“Just let me tie him up, then we’ll go to Bard’s house.”  
  
-  
  
Bilbo patted his pockets without finding a phone because yes, he’d not wanted to be interrupted during his dinner with Beorn. So no phone. Indeed. But Beorn surely must have a phone. And he did, except it was broken. He blamed the cats, and Bilbo weirdly accepted that without question.

“Why’d you need it, anyway? Bard will already know what’s happened.”  
  
“Oh, but shouldn’t we call the police?”  
  
Really, there was no need for Beorn to roll his eyes at him.   
  
“The police are not the best option. Bard will handle this.” Beorn held out his hand. “Come on, we’re going back into the living room now.”  
  
The decision to reach out and take the offered hand was done by Bilbo’s instinct long before his mind had weighed in on it, and he followed behind Beorn. Holding hands didn’t _have_ to mean anything, though, Beorn might just want to make sure they wouldn’t be separated before going to Bard’s.

Seeing the unconscious form of King on the floor was both a relief (if it had been like in the films then he would have been gone, after managing to find his guns) and also deeply disturbing, and Bilbo’s mind decided that the correct response was to start in on another round of giggling. Maybe this was what the films called shock? It was very undignified if that was the case.

When he was done giggling, Beorn had finished binding King’s hands and feet, and Bilbo wiped away a tear and surmised that he actually felt a little better. Which meant that he could transfer his attention fully on Beorn as he straightened up, and yes, the large man was naked. _Very_ naked. It was a good look.  
  
Really, what _did_ happen to his clothes when he transformed? Was he constantly having to buy clothes? And, uh, had he noticed that Bilbo was staring again?

“You should get some clothes on,” Bilbo said, scrubbing at his eyes again as a cover for looking away.   
  
Hopefully Beorn wouldn’t notice his blush this time. God, this was the wrong sort of situation to be checking someone out, no matter how attractive. Please let him not be giving away anything just by his smell.

“What?”  
  
“Clothes?” Bilbo repeated, trying his best to think very boring thoughts.

“No time,” Beorn said, shaking his head. “Come on, we’re leaving before anyone decides to come back.”  
  
-

They’d no sooner left the house to walk out into the night before two of Radagast’s friends, Alatar and Pallando, swooped down. Their hoots were quiet but urgent, and as usual one would finish the other’s sentences.  
  
“King’s men are heading our way again,” Beorn said after having listened to the bluebirds. “We’ll have to move quick, and I’m faster as a bear.”  
  
“I’ll - I’ll go hide in the forest?” Bilbo offered and Beorn turned to look at him. “Climb a tree? I didn’t get a badge for that, but I won’t have trouble anyway.”  
  
“I’m not leaving you.”  
  
“I can -”  
  
“I’m not leaving you,” Beorn said again. “I’ll turn into a bear, you’ll climb up on my back and -”  
  
A bullet whizzed past them, just barely missing Beorn’s arm.   
  
“Oh dear,” Bilbo said faintly.  
  
“Get down,” Beorn said, pushing on Bilbo’s shoulder. “And stay down.”  
  
Placing himself in front of Bilbo, Beorn went down on all four and shifted, another bullet hitting the grass just in front of his hand, no, paw. Raising his head Beorn let out a loud growl, scratching his claws against the ground and enjoying the scent of fear trickling in from the hunters. But it was also a problem. Humans, like animals, were dangerous when they were afraid. They didn’t act like they were supposed to, and while he could survive a few bullets he’d rather not, not to mention -  
  
The familiar hoot of Radagast hit Beorn’s ears just before the sound of hooves did.   
  
The elks shone like silver in the moonlight and Beorn watched as they ran straight at where the hunters had hunkered down, trampling them down before anyone had even been able to turn their guns towards them.  
  
Radagast must have gone to ask for more immediate help instead of going to Bard; smart decision, Beorn would owe him a favour. But that was a discussion for later.   
Now it was most definitely time to go to Bard’s house, before any of the hunters rallied.  
  
As if they’d heard him Beorn could see a couple of them getting back up on their feet but they’d no sooner gotten up before they were down again, and this time Beorn recognised Thranduil. His great antlers would cause any hunter to salivate at the sheer thought of owning them, but now they did what they were meant to do, and a graceful sweep of his head knocked down another one of the hunters who had attempted to crawl away on his hands and knees.

The moonlight reflected in Thranduil’s eyes, making them look pale and otherworldly and Beorn inclined his head as thanks, seeing Thranduil mirror his gesture.   
  
He had been wary and suspicious at first, the king of the forest, but after Beorn had proven that he had no intention of eating or harming anyone on Thranduil’s lands they’d gotten along tolerably well. Usually by just leaving each other along, something that suited the both of them. Still, Thranduil had come now and Beorn would not forget it.

Beorn let out a low growl and shifted his weight, looking back at Bilbo and silently trying to communicate that Bilbo needed to climb up on him. Either he recalled what Beorn had said just before the hunters started to shoot at him, or he had some fae blood in him after all seeing as he must have understood Beorn’s growls, but either way Bilbo did scramble back up on his feet.

When the touch came to Beorn’s fur it was hesitant, and Beorn rolled his shoulder to show that they didn’t have time for such things.

“I’ve not known you long enough to ride you bearback in the woods,” Bilbo muttered as he climbed on.   
  
Beorn… Beorn had to admit that his mind went somewhere else entirely for a few seconds. But he decided to save that thought for another time.  
  
As Bilbo fisted his hands into Beorn’s fur Beorn made a small grunt of approval, partially because he was happy that Bilbo was less likely to fall off, and partially because it felt good to have Bilbo touch him, regardless of why.   
  
But that was also something he’d needed to save for later. He could not expect Thranduil and his kin to stand guard the entire evening, so now it was time to run.

-

“We need to stop meeting like this,” Lindir said when he opened the door, revealing a sheepish looking Bilbo and a naked Beorn. “I thought Bard had told you not to-”  
  
“King was at my house just now and tried to kill us,” Beorn growled.  
  
Lindir blinked.  
  
“Lindir, who is out so bloody… late?” Bard joined Lindir in the doorway. “There are laws about public nudity.”  
  
“He wouldn’t take my shirt,” Bilbo said. “Well, technically it’s his shirt even. Still wouldn’t take it.”  
  
“And do what?” Beorn said grumpily. “Dangle it in front of me like a-”  
  
“We could have tied it around your waist!”  
  
“No need to fight,” Lindir sighed. “You’ll wake the children. Both of you, please come in. Beorn, I’ll get you a change of clothes.”  
  
-

As they explained what had happened Bard appeared to age about ten years.

“Okay,” he said, sounding anything but as he scrubbed his hand down his face. “Okay, I can take care of this. I think. Beorn, it’s best if you don’t go back to your house tonight. Bilbo, can he stay at your place?”  
  
“Um, sure?”  
  
“Great, and I’ll have someone come ‘round tomorrow to get both your statements.” Bard glanced at Lindir. “One of us will stop by before then, tomorrow morning, just so we all know what to say, but the basics of it will be that King was not sound of mind, or on drugs, or both.”  
  
“There were others with him," Beorn said shortly. 

“Drugs it is then,” Bard sighed. “Damn tourists coming here, yada yada. Scaring elks. Hunting without licence. Lindir, think you can find some suitable mushrooms we can slip into their things before we get them to the police, and or hospital?”  
  
“It’s a little too early in the year,” Lindir said. “But there are plants…”  
  
“Great,” Bard said. “Just don’t ever tell the kids about them.”  
  
Lindir gave him an unamused look. “I would never-“  
  
“I know, I just-“  
  
“I need to make sure the cats are okay,” Beorn interrupted.   
  
“I can do that,” Lindir offered, graciously allowing Bard to curl an arm around his waist. “I know where they usually go. I’ll ask if they want to stay with us for a while, just in case.”  
  
“Seriously,” Bilbo said. “Can _everyone_ talk with the animals?”


	4. Chapter 4

Bilbo closed the door behind himself and turned around. 

His entrance hall looked strangely small with a Beorn in it. But it was the good sort of small, cosy and nice. Not crowded. 

Not that he should be thinking about Beorn being in his house on a more permanent basis. At least, not while Beorn was here. Thoughts like that could wait for when he was alone in an empty house. 

“Are you...” He rubbed the back of his neck, thinking of all that had happened. It’d been one hell of a night. “Are you alright?” 

“I’m alive,” Beorn said, shrugging slightly.

“That isn’t really -” Bilbo sighed. “I’ll just make us some tea.”

“Tea?” Beorn asked, thick eyebrows travelling upwards. 

“With a very special ingredient,” Bilbo nodded. “ _Rum_. To calm the nerves.” 

Beorn snorted. “Would it be the tea or the rum that is supposed to be calming?”

“Both of course.” Bilbo gave a smile before heading towards the kitchen, trusting that Beorn would follow. He really did need to calm his nerves; partially - mostly - because of the Goblin King and his gang, and partially because he was now alone with Beorn. Again.

Bilbo filled the kettle up and turned it on, then moving across the kitchen to get mugs. On the way to the table he stopped by the fridge to reach for the rum that was in the cupboard above it.

When he turned with mugs and bottle in hand Beorn was a lot closer than before. Close enough that Bilbo almost bumped into him.   
  
“I’m sorry,” Bilbo apologised, stepping to the side. He hoped that he wasn’t blushing.   
  
Before the Goblin King (and that name didn’t really get any less ridiculous did it) interrupted them he had been about to kiss Beorn. He’d very much wanted to kiss him, even if he’d been nervous that Beorn wouldn’t feel the same. But... did Beorn know that? About the kissing? And if he did know, what did he want?

He’d not - the flirting hadn’t  _stopped_ , not entirely, but it had quieted down more than a fair bit. And just before they’d been interrupted Beorn had seemed… he’d not been happy at least. Perhaps that really did mean that Beorn had already gotten tired of... well, him.

And as for pointing out that Beorn was  _here_ , with him, well - he could merely be grateful that Bilbo had helped take care of the hunter for him. Beorn’s first choice would have probably been staying with Bard, seeing as he did have extra clothes there, but then Bard had asked him to go with Bilbo and yeah.

Being here was a second choice. Or maybe a third choice, since Beorn doubtlessly would’ve rather been in his own house.

Bilbo blinked and returned to the present time. Was... was Beorn getting closer? Or was this kitchen shrinking? He was close enough to kiss. Except entirely too tall. And he very likely didn’t want to be kissed. Bilbo nervously licked his lips and forced himself to look away from Beorn’s.

-  
  
Beorn looked down at Bilbo, a hand’s-breadth of air still between them. What he wanted to see was desire, something that would prove that Bilbo still wanted him. But no. Bilbo looked... startled. Uneasy. Beorn didn’t want to make him uneasy.

Swallowing back a sigh Beorn reached out for the bottle Bilbo was holding.  
  
“I don’t usually drink.”

Bilbo mouth quirked at the corners. “But you’re going to make an exception?” He let Beorn take the rum. “It’s been an... exciting night.”

If he took one more step forward, he’d be cornering Bilbo against the countertop. But did he really want to trap him like that? 

“Yes, entirely too exciting,” Bilbo continued. He was looking at Beorn’s shoulder, not at his face. “What we need is a quiet nightcap, and then I’ll sleep with y - then we’ll sleep with - then we’ll _sleep_.”

Nervous look in his eyes. Tentative body language, and - Beorn breathed in through his nose, hoping that Bilbo wouldn’t realise what he was doing - and no arousal. Instead there was still lingering hints of cold sweat, with a stink of fear to them. Beorn knew it was related to what had happened before, it wasn’t a new scent, but it still twisted something inside his stomach.

“Oh dear,” Bilbo said, breaking Beorn out of his musings. “I just realised- but no matter. I can take the couch.”  
  
“Take the couch where?”  
  
“I mean- there’s just one bed. Here. In this house. And -” Bilbo gestured between Beorn and himself. “There are two of us.”

“Yes, there are two of us,” Beorn agreed. “But this is your house.”

“You’re not going to fit. On the couch I mean.”

Chuckling would be bad form, but that first sentence under different circumstances... Bit ironic considering that Bilbo wouldn’t - didn’t want -  
  
“I can sleep on the floor,” Beorn said, a little more gruffly than he’d intended. “Slept on worse.”

“You’re a guest.”  
  
“You’ve saved my life.”  
  
“I didn’t save your life to let you sleep on the  _floor_.”  
  
The word ‘floor’ was said with the same sort of horrified outrage that Beorn would have found more suitable for a location such as ‘snake pit’ or ‘ant hill’. Fussy little bunny. “If you insist on sleeping on the couch -”

“I do,” Bilbo said firmly.

“Then I’m going to sleep on the floor next to you.”

Beorn really tried not to get any ideas when Bilbo’s mouth dropped open. He failed, but he really did try.  
  
“I could do it as a bear,” Beorn suggested. “It would be more comfortable.”  
  
And as a bear he’d know to keep his paws to himself.  
  
“No bears in my living room,” Bilbo said firmly. 

The kettle went off with a shrill sound. Beorn moved out of Bilbo’s way, and then found himself being herded towards the table. “Sit,” Bilbo ordered, putting the mugs down at the table, and Beorn did sit.   
  
As Bilbo came with the kettle Beorn noted that even seated he was a little taller than Bilbo.

Seeing as he was still holding the bottle Beorn poured a decently sized swig in each of the two cups before him as Bilbo went to fetch the sugar and some spoons.  
  
“You’re  _not_ sleeping on the floor,” Bilbo said as he came trotting back with his spoils. “My parents, or at least my father, would turn in his grave if he knew I let you do such a thing.”  
  
“I won’t tell him,” Beorn promised, nudging Bilbo’s cup a little more towards the other side of table. “You take the bed.” 

-

Bilbo swallowed. He wanted to offer the bed to Beorn, so long as he was allowed to sleep beside him. 

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? They both could have died tonight.  _Died_. And compared to that what was a little horrible embarrassment should Beorn have changed his mind about wanting Bilbo in his bed. He’d just say no, and that would be that. If he was really uncomfortable he could change into a bear after all.   
  
“You could -”

“Aren’t you -”  
  
“I’m sorry?” Bilbo asked.

“Sorry,” Beorn grunted. “I was just - tea. Aren’t you going to pour some?”

“Right,” Bilbo said, looking at the kettle which was admittedly very much standing at his side of the table. “Right.”

They both fell silent. It made the sound of the tea sloshing into the mugs very loud. Bilbo wondered if his heartbeat was similarly audible. Beorn’s hearing was a lot better than his after all.

“Do you take sugar?”

“I don’t suppose you’ve got honey?”  
  
Bilbo worried his bottom lip with his teeth. “I don’t think so, but let me have a look and -”  
  
“It’s fine.”  
  
The mugs were big enough that Bilbo usually held his in two hands, but it looked small when Beorn picked it up.

“If you want,” Beorn said, “I’d be happy to give you some.” When Bilbo sent him a confused look, he clarified: “The bees make quite good honey.”

Oh. Bilbo didn’t know why he was so surprised that Beorn had beehives. It fit somehow, and there’d been honey on the dessert. Had he mentioned that it came from his bees? If he had it was a little embarrassing that Bilbo didn’t remember, but anyway -   
  
“You’re sweet,” he said, pushing the sugar towards Beorn and only realising at Beorn’s chuckle that an unintended pun had snuck in there.

“The honey’s sweet. I’m not.”  
  
“You _are_ ,” Bilbo said and took a sip of his tea to hide that just a small chuckle from Beorn was enough to make him feel a bit flustered. However Bilbo had forgotten about the rum and ended up choking as the alcohol burnt its way down his throat.  
  
Tears pooling in his eyes Bilbo only vaguely registered the sound of a chair scraping against the floor.

The mug was plucked from his hands – which was a relief because then he wouldn’t drop his mother’s china - and a big, warm hand found its way to his back.   
  
Beorn started out with gentle pats but it morphed into long strokes as Bilbo regained control of his breathing once more.   
  
“You okay?”  
  
“Rum,” Bilbo managed, blinking rapidly. “I forgot.” At least he hadn’t spilled tea all over himself. The juice before had been quite enough.  
  
“I figured.”  
  
Beorn was still touching him. Bilbo’s back had never been as aware of anything in its entire existence as it was aware of how Beorn was still touching him.

Beorn was crouched down next to him, though this didn’t make him look smaller in the slightest. He was still very big. He was very close. And his mouth was actually within reach if Bilbo would just-

“Bed,” Bilbo blurted. “We can share. If you… it’s a _big_ bed. And - no bears. As I said. It just wouldn’t do to have a guest sleeping on the floor. Bear or not.”  
  
Clamping his jaws shut did put an end to the babbling. If only he’d tried it a little earlier. He licked his lips again, and he surely imagined that Beorn’s gaze flicked down to his lips. Yes, obviously imagined.

“Bed,” Beorn said, and it sounded like an agreement. “Sharing a bed to sleep.”

“That’s... that’s what I said.” Bilbo nodded to make it clear that he wasn’t looking to push Beorn into anything. “Just - don’t turn into a bear in the middle of the night.”  
  
“It is the middle of the night already.”  
  
“You know what I mean. I rather like not being flat. Not that -”  
  
This time Bilbo managed to shut his mouth a little earlier. Before he could say something about Beorn being on top of him in human form and how he wouldn’t mind that at all.  
  
-

Beorn didn’t want to raise his hopes. It was an innocent offer, no doubt. But talk about flattening Bilbo... he wouldn’t do that. He didn’t want to hurt in him any way. He’d stay beside Bilbo, or have Bilbo lie atop him. He’d like that. He’d like Bilbo to like that.

But no. They’d be sleeping together. Not sleeping with each other.   
  
Even _if_ Bilbo was would still be interested, even if he hadn’t decided that someone like Beorn just wasn’t worth it, it had been a very long day. Perhaps even more so for Bilbo.   
  
He’d… he’d appeared to be more shocked about King’s sheer maliciousness than he’d been about Beorn’s ability to shift into a bear. Little innocent bunny.  
  
Rising from his crouch Beorn noted that Bilbo at least didn’t seem to be afraid of him. He didn’t as much as flinch at the sudden movement and there was no change to his scent. Just the same lingering traces from before.

He had no idea where Bilbo’s trust had come from. Beorn hadn’t really done anything to earn it, except by being a ‘nice bear’ and not eating Bilbo when he’d been stuck in the trap. Was that really only yesterday?

A deep twinge in his leg reminded him that yes, it was, and Beorn went to sit back down. He probably hadn’t done his leg any favours with the running earlier, but it’d be fine.

“May I use your bathroom? Before we sleep.”   
  
He’d give his leg a once over, and then he’d need to wear the same clothes to bed, but that was also fine. They were clean and neat, unsurprising in Bard’s household, and since Beorn had done his running as a bear his human form hadn’t even worked up a sweat.  
  
“Of course,” Bilbo said after a moment’s silence. “I - oh.”  
  
Beorn raised his eyebrows in silent question when Bilbo began to snicker.  
  
“You know the saying about what bears do in the woods? I assure you, you’re welcome to use my bathroom all you please.”

He found himself smiling at the amusement Bilbo radiated. “Bears do many things in the woods,” he said. “I do many things in and outside the woods.”

Beorn couldn’t help but reflect that he hadn’t done many  _people_. Many who met him were either scared of his size or put off by it. And Bard hadn’t been wrong when he’d dryly commented that Beorn didn’t even like most people he met. This was inarguable, because Beorn did really prefer the company of his animal friends and of himself.

But then Bilbo had come out of the moonlight and into his life. He was not an animal and he was not frightened of Beorn. And Beorn _liked_  him. How the hell had that happened?

And Bilbo had liked him back. Maybe. He’d wanted him, for a while at least. Maybe he would again? If Beorn just didn’t do anything to pressure him or make him feel uncomfortable. Then maybe when all the terrible things that had happened this day were beginning to fade Bilbo would remember the good ones. 

“But you like it better in the woods, right?” Bilbo asked.

True enough, and Beorn nodded. There was nothing in Dale that particularly caught Beorn’s attention enough to want to stay there. Not until now.

He couldn’t say that though. It was too much, too soon; and had it really only been a  _day_? No wonder that Bilbo had pulled back.

Beorn needed to do the same. Clearly. Slowing down didn’t have to mean stop, not entirely, he hoped. Still, how was slowing down supposed to work when they apparently were about to sleep in the same bed?

Dear fucking gods, please let Bilbo be the sort of person who wore pyjamas. 

As for himself... he could deal with wearing clothes to bed. He’d just have to make sure to forgo any sort of blanket. In fact, that gave Beorn an idea. “Why don’t I sleep over the covers?”

-

“Because you want to have - oh you mean  _now_. Or not now, but  _here_. Or not here but -” 

Biting your tongue actually worked. Go figure.

Bilbo breathed in and reminded himself that he wasn’t actually like this. He was a grown man, he could behave like one. Just not in front of Beorn, apparently.

“Won’t you be cold?” he settled on asking. Only that was a mistake because it prompted images inside his mind of Beorn being naked, and he  _knew_  what Beorn looked like naked, and the idea of him naked and stretched out on Bilbo’s bed...

“Might be a little hot.” Beorn shrugged a shoulder. “But you shouldn’t worry about it.”

Bilbo most certainly... well, he didn’t  _worry_  about it, but he felt very concerned. Beorn was indeed hot. No wait, he meant, Beorn would be very hot even without the covers so...

“We can have the window open?” There, he was perfectly capable of being reasonable.

“On your head be it if any gossiping birds come to gawk at us.” Beorn’s small smile did not at  _all_  make something inside Bilbo’s stomach flutter. 

“Bard wouldn’t explain how it is that he can talk to birds.” Bilbo most definitely did not pout.

“It’s not an easy thing to explain. I cannot explain how I can turn into a bear.” Beorn emptied his mug in a single motion. “But I do not _turn_  into a bear. I am a man, and I am also a bear. That is all.”

“Sounds simple enough when you put it like that,” Bilbo said, corners of his mouth turning up.   
  
“Good,” Beorn replied, and oh dear, his smile got bigger. Bilbo sipped from his own mug, this time remembering that it wouldn’t just be tea in it. Tea that had gone entirely too cold to be precise and Bilbo quickly finished his cup as well. 

Was the rum really to steady his nerves, or was it Dutch courage? And if it was the latter, courage to do what?

“I know where the bathroom is,” Beorn said as he got up from his chair. “Been here before Bard moved.” 

“Right,” Bilbo said. “I’ll just go and prepare the bed.”  
  
He avoiding tagging on that he’d prepare the bed for sleeping, because that would suggest that it could be used for other things. Instead he all but fled into the bedroom.

There wasn’t much preparation to be done, but Bilbo cleaned up as quickly as he could. Well, he put things into stacks and shoved clothes into either the laundry hamper or onto the desk chair. It didn’t look  _too_  cluttered once he was done, which was a relief when Beorn loomed in not long after.

Beorn and bed. Right next to each other. Bed where Bilbo would sleep under the covers and Beorn above, but maybe they could dispense of the cover altogether, and then dispense of clothes as well. Just so neither of them got too hot. And if either got too cold, there were ways of warming up that he was  _up_  for...

“My turn to get ready,” Bilbo said, unnecessarily, and fled again.

-

Beorn was beginning to realise that this might be a terrible, terrible idea. 

The bedroom smelled like Bilbo. And not only did it  _only_  smell of Bilbo, it also had hints of the spicy sweet scent of arousal. Which, yeah, not surprising as it was a bedroom. But since Beorn could only pick out Bilbo’s scent and no one else’s, not even Bard’ or Lindir’s, it was much too easy to imagine what he might have done, what he might have looked like, when he smelt like that. 

Sitting or lying down on the bed would be a bad idea, it’d make him look presumptuous. Standing where he was now and staring at the door to await Bilbo would just be creepy. It was safest to go over to the desk and skim the covers of the stacked books there.

He knew from their earlier conversation over dinner that Bilbo was a writer. This part of the room smelled primarily of ink and paper, and then the sharp, plastic-metallic smell of the laptop at one corner of the desk.

Dune, a collection of the Narnia books, and - Beorn smiled. Watership down. The bunny liked reading about other bunnies.  
  
The sound of a shower turning on was a relief but also made Beorn want to bang his head into the wall. Bilbo washing away the cold sweat and fear meant that Beorn wouldn’t need to smell it anymore, but that would leave him next to a clean Bilbo, in bed, in a room smelling like Bilbo wanted him. Which wasn’t right. It just meant that Bilbo wanted _something_ , and that was - most people wanted something. No need for Beorn to try and make it into something more than that.

Feeling like he very much needed some air Beorn walked over to the window and opened it, taking a few deep breaths that smelled of nothing but summer night. If someone saw him there would be talk, but Beorn never cared about what other people said about him, so he remained standing by the window, looking out over Dale bathed in the soft moonlight.

“Toothbrush!”

Beorn had not heard Bilbo return, nor had he expected him to return so quickly, and surprise made him spin around, stance half-way towards being ready for a fight.

Bilbo still didn’t look scared, only a little taken aback.  
  
“Toothbrush?” he said again, waving a white and blue toothbrush in front of himself. “I realised that I didn’t offer you one and - I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

If Beorn was startled, it faded away when his gaze dropped to take Bilbo in. He must have lost track of time because Bilbo had showered and changed clothing. He was now wearing a fairly old fashioned nightshirt, and that flash of shins and calves was very...

It was a very good thing Bilbo couldn’t smell Beorn’s own arousal. That would make things even more awkward. Did Bilbo have underwear on beneath that - Damn. That thought had to stop right there.

“I forgot,” Beorn said, and walked forward to take the toothbrush. Bilbo’s eyes were awfully pretty and distracting; he suddenly realised that he was holding Bilbo’s hand instead of just the toothbrush.

Letting go was difficult, but Beorn had done a great deal of difficult things in his life. Getting closer to the bed again hadn’t helped though, Beorn could smell _that_ scent again. Sleeping was going to be a challenge. Perhaps he could just wait for Bilbo to fall asleep and then go down to the couch after all. Yes, that would be for the best.

It took him awhile to move, or even want to move. Bilbo said nothing and his expression was unreadable. Beorn tried to decipher it without resorting to using his sense of smell... not that, now that he was standing so close, he could smell anything but mint and the apple scented body wash that Bilbo had used.

“I’ll go and brush my teeth then,” Beorn said eventually. “If you’re - were you done in the bathroom?”  
  
Bilbo nodded. “All yours.”  
  
Beorn managed a small grunt in reply, because hearing Bilbo say those words came a little too close to what Beorn really wanted him to say.  
  
“And if you want to take a shower I left a towel for you.”

Beorn considered it. He could get himself off in the shower, which might take care of part of his current problem. But it would feel wrong doing that in Bilbo’s home, because he’d definitely be thinking of Bilbo as he touched himself. And there would be no chance of Bilbo coming in to check on him, and then coming into the shower, and then _coming_ –  
  
“That won’t be necessary.” 

-  


The hairs on the back of Bilbo’s neck rose at the low rumble of Beorn’s voice, which was just silly. His knees weren’t supposed to get weak so simply, even if his thoughts had already been a little, or a lot, distracted by images of Beorn naked in the shower. And walking out without a towel. Because a towel wasn’t necessary. Of course it wasn’t, not when Bilbo was around.

It was lucky that Beorn was already halfway to the bathroom, less chance of Bilbo doing something stupid.   
  
With one last glance at his backside, because he’d not gotten a chance to appreciate it dressed in the soft grey jogging bottoms that he’d gotten from Lindir, Bilbo forced his eyes away and moved to their - _the_ bed.   
  
He started turning down the covers but realised that if Beorn wanted to sleep on top of them that wouldn’t work. Right, so what then?

Should he sit on the bed? Get beneath the covers? Should he face Beorn or show him his back?

He might as well lie down. Beneath the covers and top sheet, on his back. That wasn’t suggestive, right? Not since Beorn had already said that he’d be sleeping on top. Of the covers. Yes. And if Bilbo was entirely beneath the sheets then he couldn’t reach out or do something silly like that. Yes, this was a good solution.

He could steal all of the blankets. Wrap himself up tightly to make sure that there was no way he could reach out during the night, with any part of his body.

Oh god he’d better not wake up with - having Beorn in his bed would simultaneously be great and bad, the latter especially if certain parts of him enthusiastically greeted the morning...

What if… what if he migrated over during the night? And woke up glued to Beorn’s side? That would be -  
  
Maybe he could just wait for Beorn to go to sleep and then sneak down and take the couch. That - yes, he would do that. He should do that.  
  
Swallowing Bilbo slipped between the sheets, pulling them up to his neck.  
  
Was it hot or - right. The window. He should open the window. Half way to the window Bilbo realised that it was already open, but he padded forward anyway and the cooler outside air was a relief. It made him more alert, hopefully alert enough to keep his hands to himself. And able to stay awake until he could escape temptation.

“So,” Beorn said behind him, “which is my side?”  
  
“You’re _really_ quiet for someone so big,” Bilbo said without thinking, seeing as he hadn’t heard Beorn enter the room, but he’d no sooner finished the sentence before his brain oh so helpfully wondered if Beorn would be noisy or quiet in bed. And Bilbo’s brain did not mean regarding any possible snoring. He didn’t have to wonder about the, erm, _big_ part.  
  
“Pretty light on my feet,” Beorn said and shrugged one shoulder. “Comes in handy out in the forest. I didn’t mean to scare you.”  
  
“You didn’t,” Bilbo promised. “Um, and you can take the right side.”  
  
-  


The right side of the bed was closer to the window, and Beorn gave Bilbo a vaguely grateful smile. It would have been easy to snag Bilbo’s elbow as he walked past, tugging him along, but Beorn resisted. He would not make things (even more) awkward. All he had to do was lie down on the bed and wait for Bilbo to fall asleep, without purposefully or accidentally touching him. 

It felt like an insurmountable goal when Bilbo doused the lights. Beorn’s night sight was exceptional, so he could watch Bilbo lick his lips on the way back to the bed. He determinedly cast his gaze on the ceiling when Bilbo settled in beside him.  
  
Bilbo’s breaths quickly slowed and evened, but not yet into sleep. Thankfully Beorn wasn’t the least bit sleepy. His body was hyper-aware of how close Bilbo was, of his scent, his warmth, and despite trying his best not to Beorn could feel himself getting hard.  
  
Maybe he _should_ go to the bathroom and take care of it. But that still felt wrong. He shouldn’t be getting an erection in Bilbo’s house at all, unless it was by Bilbo’s hand. Or hand _s_. Or mouth. Or -

Right, that wasn’t helping.

Bilbo shifted. Beorn hoped to hell that his eyes weren’t open. Moving his hands to cover his crotch would probably be really obvious but –

“Beorn?”  
  
Bilbo’s voice was hushed and for a moment Beorn thought about pretending to be asleep. But that would be like lying and he didn’t lie, especially not to Bilbo.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Do you know what we’re doing?”  
  
Beorn swallowed and wondered if Bilbo heard his throat clicking. “Trying to... sleep?” He wasn’t sure what answer was supposed to be the right one.  
  
“Yeah, not so much,” Bilbo sighed. “Can I be honest with you?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
The air in the resulting silence felt just like the air before a thunderstorm. It took a considerable amount of Beorn’s willpower not to turn his head to look at Bilbo. It wouldn’t be fair to look. Not when Bilbo couldn’t see as well in the dark.   
  
“I’m lying here, waiting for you to fall asleep so I can go and curl up on the couch.”  
  
That… hurt. It shouldn’t. After all Beorn was doing the same thing albeit for different reasons, but the notion of Bilbo wanting to get away from him… that did hurt. Clearly he regretted the offer to share his bed with Beorn. And he was too polite to just tell Beorn to get the hell out of his bedroom.  
  
“But I think I should go right away,” Bilbo sighed, and Beorn just barely stopped himself from flinching. “Because if I _don’t_ go and sleep on the couch -”  
  
Beorn braced himself.  
  
“Then I’m going to roll over and kiss you.”

Had... had he heard wrongly? Or had he actually fallen asleep and this was a dream?

Except if it was a dream, Bilbo would not be bothering with any conversation and would do said rolling over and kissing. Which Beorn would really like to happen. But... now it might happen? Bilbo wanted it to happen?

Now Beorn turned. He rose onto one elbow; Bilbo was already facing him. The covers were pushed down a little with his arms over them. It did not look like he was cruelly teasing; though his soft lips were a tease of their own, begging for Beorn’s touch, for his kisses, for his -

“I don’t want you...” Beorn sucked in a breath. “I don’t want you to offer if you’re unwilling. But I also want to kiss you. I want...” He took one of Bilbo’s hands, gently curling his fingers around it in a light squeeze, and if Bilbo came willingly he would press that hand over his cock, to show just how much he wanted him. But _only_ if Bilbo was willing.   
  
“You already know I want you,” Bilbo said a little hesitantly.  
  
Beorn blinked. “No, I don’t.”  
  
“But -” Oh and if Bilbo’s lips had been a tease it was nothing compared to a flash of his tongue as he licked his lips again. “You can… smell me? You did it when we first met. You - we even _talked_ about it.”  
  
“That was before I almost got you killed,” Beorn said, so very aware of the small hand he was holding in his, the stutter of Bilbo’s pulse. “You almost died.” Because of him.

Bilbo huffed, pushing up into a seated position, but leaving his hand in Beorn’s grasp. “So did you. Almost die, that is.” He made an impatient sound. “But we’re both safe. Together.” He licked his lips again. “In bed.”

“In your bed,” Beorn said, and Bilbo nodded helplessly.

“So do you want to kiss me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shakes fist* the browser crashed as soon as I was done with this, so I had to redo the formatting and stuff twice, bah! /alkjira


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've arrived at the beginning of the end, and at the smut.

Bilbo’s eyes had adjusted as much as they would to the dark but he still didn’t really see Beorn get closer, only that the shadows in the room moved, but he felt the bed dip and a whiff of mint and then Beorn’s lips were on his.  
  
That was all the invitation Bilbo needed and he moaned low in his throat and leaned forward, wanting to feel more than just Beorn’s lips and the scratch of his beard.

More was what he got. Beorn’s grip went to Bilbo’s waist so he could haul Bilbo close, keeping him close as he rolled onto his back so Bilbo was now lying on top of him. And pressed up against a rather lovely (and flattering) erection. Beorn took his hand again and brought it between their bodies. Bilbo was more than happy to stroke and fondle; from what he could feel, Beorn wasn’t wearing anything under his sweatpants.

Greedily revelling in the permission to touch Bilbo kept kissing Beorn between breaths that were already harsh, even though Beorn wasn’t touching him yet. And when Beorn _did_ touch him Bilbo had to take a few moments to just breathe and think the most unsexy thought he could accomplish.  
  
“All right?” Beorn asked, his hand resting over the hard line of Bilbo’s still covered cock; his shirt had gotten pushed up to his waist, but unlike some he _was_ wearing underwear.  
  
“A little too all right.” Bilbo sucked in air between his teeth. “It’s just - it’s been a while.”

-

That admission brought forth an irrational amount of satisfaction. 

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, nipping Bilbo’s lower lip because he could. It was soft and plump and Bilbo whimpered very nicely when Beorn nipped it again.

He wasn’t to be distracted for long, though, huffing and bumping his hand against Beorn’s chest. It was like being hit by a... well, a bunny. “It does matter, when I don’t want to come in my pants.”

“We’d better take care of that, then.” Beorn had him on his back in a moment, using Bilbo’s surprise to pull off his pants. He let them fall and then used his hands to push the nightshirt up to Bilbo’s chest, so he could see all of Bilbo unimpeded. Bilbo had already seen him naked several times; fair was fair.  
  
Though not so according to his bedmate.   
  
“You’re wearing clothes,” Bilbo complained as he squirmed and tried to sit back up, tugging on the soft fabric of Beorn’s sweatpants. “Terribly impolite to come to bed while - ooooh.”  
  
Gently sinking his teeth into Bilbo’s nipple also earned him a very nice whimper, and another one when Beorn soothed the now stiff nub with his tongue. Not wanting the other one to feel left out Beorn moved to focus his attention on it, his hand coming up to cup Bilbo’s chest.

Now Bilbo arched back against the bed instead of trying to push up off it. One hand came up, stroking along Beorn’s jaw, tracing his ear, up into his hair. The fingers of his other dug into Beorn’s shoulder.

“Un -” Bilbo threw his head back. “Unfair.”

“Uh-huh,” Beorn agreed, kissing his way up Bilbo’s neck. “‘m sorry.”

“As you shhh - oh dear lord,” Bilbo panted as Beorn discovered a particularly sensitive spot on his neck. It was hard to keep himself from grinning when worrying that spot made Bilbo’s right foot repeatedly twitch down against the bed, like a little bunny stomping at the ground.

His grin faltered when that leg wrapped around his waist and Bilbo somehow flipped their positions. It was a little disappointing when Bilbo’s nightshirt fell to cover him, but Beorn could feel his cock between their bodies and that was enough to bring back the grin with interest.  
  
“Clothes!” Bilbo commanded whilst sitting up and straddling Beorn’s waist. “Gone. Now.”  
  
“You best get off me then, little bunny,” Beorn said, stroking his hands up Bilbo’s sides and rucking up his nightshirt to reveal his cock, swaying slightly. “Can’t get undressed with you sitting on me. Unless I turn into a bear but -”  
  
“If we’re breaking my bed it’s not going to be because a bear landed on it,” Bilbo muttered as he tugged on the waistband of Beorn’s trousers. “And I’m not a bunny.”  
  
Beorn’s hands wandered. “You don’t have a tail, true enough.” He mapped Bilbo’s arse thoroughly, just to make sure. “Nope, no tail here.”

“Funny.” Bilbo gave up for now, using one hand to push his curls off his forehead. “But if your trousers are still on, how will I suck your cock?”

Oh. Well, there was some compelling motivation right there.  
  
“I suppose I could suck it through your trousers,” Bilbo murmured. “But then you’d have no clean clothes left tomorrow. And I’d prefer to taste you and not cotton and - oh _drat_.”  
  
“What?” Beorn asked, cupping Bilbo’s face. “What’s wrong?”  
  
Bilbo huffed, turning his face into Beorn’s palm, curling his fingers around Beorn’s wrist. “I don’t suppose that you’ve got any condoms secreted away in a hidden pocket? Because I don’t have any.”  
  
“If I did leave condoms with a change of clothes I’m not sure what that would say about me,” Beorn rumbled.  
  
“That you are in favour of safe sex?” Bilbo suggested.  
  
He used his thumb to tap Bilbo’s nose, chuckling a little when it scrunched in response. “And you’re not?”

“When I came to Dale I wasn’t looking for anything but a change in scenery. I wasn’t looking for anyone or to start anything with anyone.” Bilbo’s gaze dropped. He stroked his free hand down Beorn’s furred chest. “I didn’t expect you.”

“Hey.” He tapped Bilbo’s nose again to get his attention. “When I was trapped, didn’t expect to be saved by a fearless bunny. Even after that, I didn’t expect to like you.”

“But you do.”

“Aye.”

“I like you too.” Bilbo squeezed his wrist. “ _Like_  like you, just so we’re clear.”   
  
“So that’s why you’re sitting on top of me while being mostly naked.” Beorn hummed. “I was wondering.”  
  
“Pfft,” Bilbo said and flapped his hand. “I could do that if I just _liked_ you. But since I _like_ -like you I want you to stay the night and have breakfast in the morning and then we could see if my shower is big enough for the both of us.”  
  
“Sounds like a plan,” Beorn said softly and stretched up for a kiss, Bilbo leaning down to meet him half way.  
  
“You’re _still_ wearing trousers,” Bilbo muttered between kisses.

“You’re still wearing a shirt. Night shirt.” He was already itching to get back to those delectable nipples and the soft curve of Bilbo's chest. “You show me yours, then I’ll show you mine.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Bilbo grumbled. But he sat back, removing his nightshirt between one blink and the next and then throwing it aside. Beorn suddenly wanted them to be out in the open where the moonlight would paint Bilbo’s skin silver and his curls gold.

That would be something to keep for the future. For now he smoothed his hands up Bilbo’s thighs and asked, “Do you want to turn on the light?”  
  
-  
  
“Um,” Bilbo hesitated. He wasn’t shy, and he was pretty comfortable in his skin, but he usually didn’t get this request either. “Sure? If you’d like to we can do that.” He scrambled off Beorn’s lap, tugging impatiently on his trousers on his way - “And get rid of these already.”  
  
“Bossy bunny,” Beorn said and Bilbo could hear the smile. He could also hear the promising sound of cloth hitting the floor.  
  
“Do you know what bunnies have?  _Teeth_.” Bilbo blinked rapidly as he flicked on the lamp standing in the corner by the door, flooding the room with soft yellow light. “Is this all right?”  
  
Beorn didn’t answer the question, holding out a hand. “Come here,” he said.

Bilbo chose to dally, taking the time to look his fill. Sure, he’d seen Beorn naked several times already, but now he had permission to let his gaze linger. Now he had permission to look and then touch. Having the lights on was suddenly a terrific idea and he’d have to slip in an extra kiss to show his appreciation.

His eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to Beorn’s cock. Perhaps he could offer more than an extra kiss.  
  
There was a lot of Beorn to promise kisses to though, and Bilbo didn’t want to play favourites right away.  
  
“What do you want?” Beorn asked after he’d tugged Bilbo on top of himself again. “What do you like?”  
  
“I thought I’d already said,” Bilbo smiled as he fanned out his fingers on Beorn’s chest, carding through the dark tufts of hair. “I like you.” He hummed when Beorn’s hand stroked down his back, similar to how he’d done so earlier in the kitchen, and yet different in intention. “What do you want?” he asked in return. “What do you want me to do?”  
  
“Touch me,” Beorn growled and Bilbo shuddered at the low, rough sound.  
  
“Not a problem,” he murmured, sliding his hands up to Beorn’s shoulders before leaning down for more kisses. There was a lot of Beorn to touch but Bilbo felt more than ready for the challenge.  
  
He couldn’t stop the noises he was making as Beorn kissed and stroked him, but he didn’t think Beorn minded in the slightest. No he was happy to cup Bilbo’s arse, fingers digging into soft flesh, and Bilbo could do nothing more but whimper into his mouth. 

In revenge he petted Beorn’s chest, wanting to know if the other man’s nipples were as sensitive as his. The abundance of hair was a bit inconvenient when it came to sucking and nibbling but Bilbo was not so easily daunted and besides, he quite liked the feel of it against his skin. Having to spit out a hair or two was just a minor inconvenience anyway.  
  
Someone had once told Bilbo that how lovers tended to touch you in bed mirrored how they found it pleasurable to be touched and it was true enough for Beorn it would seem. When Bilbo bent his head to lap at a brown nipple Beorn’s hips bucked enough that Bilbo almost tumbled off him.

“Wicked creature,” Beorn said, and Bilbo could feel his voice vibrating through his chest. Next he felt a deep groan when he nibbled.

“Teeth,” he reminded Beorn, before nuzzling his chest in apology. He moved to Beorn’s other nipple, kissing and biting and sucking as his heart desired, feeling Beorn’s desire as a hot brand between their bodies.

They really needed to buy condoms next time. Or the time after that, Bilbo amended as he remembered his plans for the shower.  
  
Lifting up and moving forward a little had the happy result of making Beorn’s cock ride up between Bilbo’s arse cheeks, and it was very gratifying to see Beorn’s dark eyes go a bit hazy. Thrusting his own erection against Beorn’s stomach Bilbo continued to nibble away at Beorn’s chest while rocking his hips back and forth.

He glanced up, only to see that Beorn was already looking at him. His lips were puffy from their kissing, wet from the constant swipe of his tongue, parted to let pass every sigh and moan. It made Bilbo’s heartbeat throb very insistently in his ears, with an echo along his cock.

“When you take me,” he said hoarsely, watching Beorn’s gaze darken when he tacked on: “for the first time. For the first time, I want to see you.”

“As you wish,” Beorn murmured. His hands parted Bilbo’s arsecheeks further and he rolled his own hips to make Bilbo clutch at him.  
  
A stray and overly romantic thought concerning the film ‘The Princess Bride’ flitted through Bilbo’s mind, but it was nudged to the side first by common sense – they’d known each other for little more than a _day_ – and then by desire.  
  
“What I wish now is to get my mouth on you.”  
  
-

Beorn groaned at this admission, and groaned louder still when Bilbo squirmed out of his grip and moved down his body to take Beorn’s cock in his small hands. Bilbo seemed rapt as he fondled Beorn gently, too gently, watching precome leak down his length. He wanted needed to see Bilbo’s lips stretched wide around him and his cheeks hollow and bulge, to see the satisfied look that he somehow knew would grace Bilbo’s features.

When Bilbo placed an open-mouthed kiss to Beorn’s cock, tongue flicking over the slit, he gripped the sheets tightly and made sure to keep his hips as still as he could.  
  
“Definitely buying condoms,” Bilbo murmured as he gave it a few tugs before lowering his head.

Beorn’s eyes all but popped out of his head when Bilbo swallowed down most of his cock without care for such trivialities as a gag reflex. The effort not to move his hips made him tremble, and the neatly made bed was soon a long forgotten memory as Beorn pulled the sheets up to bunch in his fist.  
  
He shivered when Bilbo met his eyes; the way they crinkled at the corners suggested that he’d be smiling if his mouth hadn’t been otherwise occupied. He set up a toe-curling rhythm: slide down with a hum, swallow, pull up with the barest graze of teeth.

The rest of him wasn’t idle either, small hands busy stroking what his mouth couldn’t take, or slipping down to fondle Beorn’s balls or stroking along his thighs or stomach. And the way Bilbo was lying between Beorn’s spread legs made it possible for him to rock his hips down against the bed, and Beorn had a rather difficult time trying to decide if he wanted to watch Bilbo’s face or the soft bounce of his arse.  
  
The thought that he’d be able to explore both images in the future was heartening.

“Want you to come on me,” he said, calling Bilbo’s attention. Bilbo responded with a questioning hum that made Beorn curse. He rallied. “Come on me. Over and in my hand, on my belly or on my face. Messying the bed only ‘s a waste.” He would like Bilbo’s taste as much as he’d like the way such acts were a claim of ownership.

He scratched Bilbo’s scalp lightly. Tugged and tweaked the (oddly prominent) point of his ear. He’d not exactly mind being allowed to come all over Bilbo in turn, mixing their scents and stating his intentions to anyone who’d know to look for such things, but just having Bilbo’s scent on himself was plenty.  
  
When Bilbo popped of his cock it was with a filthy wet sound and Beorn groaned and allowed himself to rock his hips up, his cock wanting to go back into that sweet wet heat.  
  
“You might get some in your mouth,” Bilbo said and his brow furrowed with feigned distress, “if I come on your face. You sure that’s vegetarian?”  
  
When Beorn cursed beneath his breath Bilbo only snickered and planted a smacking his on the head of his cock.  
  
“I’m pretty sure no one gets killed for you to come in my mouth,” Beorn managed.  
  
“I don’t know. There’s the little death I suppose.”He looked thoughtful, rubbing his thumb between the base of Beorn’s cock and his bollocks. 

“‘s not a problem,” Beorn said, breath huffing between clenched teeth. It would probably be rude to fist his fingers in Bilbo’s curls and show him what _was_ the problem, where and how he could solve it.

“What is, then?” He didn’t wait for an answer, deciding to replace his thumb with his mouth.

Beorn’s head snapped back into the pillows and he arched upwards, cursing up a storm as Bilbo’s tongue sent shocks of pleasure up his spine. 

“Such language,” Bilbo remarked innocently and Beorn was still gearing up for a reply when Bilbo slid his mouth down his cock once more, that all too clever tongue tracing the length as he sank down. 

Beorn wanted to retort and ask how Bilbo could be so haughty when he had learned to use his mouth like that, but he couldn’t string the two together and the words scattered between one heartbeat and the next. He would not last long under this assault; Bilbo had said it’d been awhile, but Beorn was pretty sure it was longer than that since he himself had taken a lover. On the whole he did not want to fuck anyone, but now was an obvious exception. Bilbo was an exception to a lot of things.

Still, it was quite simple really and Beorn didn’t give two shits if it was instinct or just him being him. He wanted to fuck Bilbo and then feed him and then repeat those two things for the foreseeable future, intercut with more talking and hopefully no near death situations.

However, if Bilbo so happened to be out of practice due to it being a  _while_  it was possible he would actually end up killing Beorn when he got back in his stride. But what a way to go. 

He couldn’t stand it. Reaching out he gently tweaked Bilbo’s ear to get his attention. His words were lost when hazel eyes flicked up at him, filled with lust and want. “Come,” he gasped.

-

Bilbo flushed, letting Beorn slip free. “Come? You’re going to -?” He quickly got a hand under himself to lock around the base of his cock, stilling his hips so he would stop rutting against the mattress. “You can, I’ll swallow, if you want -” Another tweak to his ear ended his babbling.

“Come here.” Beorn’s voice was almost a growl, deep and dark.

“Oh!” Bilbo half-scrambled and was half-dragged up Beorn’s body but who cared about the method when the result was so lovely. “I meant it,” Bilbo said between deep wet kisses. “You can - in my mouth. I like it.”

“You taste like  _us_ ,” Beorn rumbled, and that was not exactly a reply, but then again, if Beorn was going to sound like that he could read out loud from the dictionary and it would still go straight to Bilbo’s cock. 

Straight might not be the word. 

Beorn’s hands swept up the backs of Bilbo’s thighs, cupping his arse solidly before kneading. It took a moment - okay, he was distracted by Beorn’s mouth so sue him - to realise that Beorn was playing with his arse, making it bounce as he liked.

He wanted to do so much; continue sucking and touching Beorn, having that cock thrusting deep within him, being pinned down while Beorn rutted against him mindlessly. Too bad his brain and body had trouble communicating right now.

“You wanna be on or below me?” Beorn bit his chin. “Or beside?”

“Nngh, yes,” Bilbo panted, meaning all of the above please and thank you. 

“You’re the writer, use your words.”

“Nope,” Bilbo said and shook his head. “Words all gone. Terribly sad.”

It was  _very_  nice that Beorn was so strong, it hardly seemed like an effort to reposition Bilbo atop him so that he could slip one thick thigh between Bilbo’s. Oh yes, that was definitely nice. He couldn’t even think enough to kiss Beorn, managing only to nuzzle their noses and pant wetly into Beorn’s open mouth.

Well, okay, his questing fingers managed to find Beorn’s nipples again.

It was graceless and messy and definitely the best sex Bilbo could ever remember having. And it was only their first time. 

“Lots - condoms,” Bilbo said fervently as he plucked at Beorn’s nipples, thrusting against Beorn’s lovely, solid thigh. 

“Showers too.” Beorn’s grip tightened when he laughed, and Bilbo squirmed against him. “Bareback in the woods.”

“Bareback in the -” Bilbo’s eyes widened. “Bear- So  _that’s_  why. Why you - _oh yessss_ \- looked at me like that before.”

“Thought it was a strange time to suggest a fuck.”

Bilbo scraped his cheek along Beorn’s bearded jaw. “You’re - horrible.”

“Really? You -  _fuck_  -” Bilbo had the absolute pleasure of watching Beorn’s eyes go wide and then squeeze shut, his head thrown back and his grip almost painful. “Fuck, Bilbo -”

He managed to get a hand down between them; curling it around Beorn’s cock, feeling it jerk and pulse as he came in thick ropes on both of their stomachs. 

Bilbo worked Beorn through it with as steady strokes as he could manage, stopping only when Beorn’s groans attained a note of something other than pleasure. It was not with little regret Bilbo removed his hand from Beorn’s still stiff length, but being able to bring his fingers up to his mouth to lick away the white slick traces of Beorn’s come was certainly a treat. 

-

Beorn  _really_  wished that he had an inhuman recovery time because just the sight of Bilbo above him - god -

Still breathing harshly, he said, “You’re amazing,” and it was funny how that praise made Bilbo blush up to the tips of his ears, even when he was sucking on two sticky fingers. Beorn had never met anyone quite like him.

He glanced down to Bilbo’s pretty cock, slick with both of them, and licked the sweat off his top lip. “Come up here.” He changed his grip on Bilbo. “Fuck my mouth.”

Beorn’s chest and shoulders were too wide for Bilbo to have one knee on each side of him, but with Beorn’s hands clutching his hips and holding him steady Bilbo  _finally_  (not that Beorn was at  _all_  impatient) got into a good enough position. Beorn hummed happily as Bilbo’s cock slid past his lips.   
  
He tightened his hands when Bilbo wobbled, kneading at Bilbo’s ample backside - something that was quickly becoming one of Beorn’s favourite things to do. 

Bilbo had one hand on the headboard and one locked around Beorn’s forearm, steadying himself. His expression was equal parts desperate and reverent, as if he could hardly believe what was happening. Beorn could swallow all of him down to the root and breathed deep the smell of him. Spicy-sweet. He’d not soon forget that scent; he was addicted already.

All of Bilbo had so very quickly turned into something that Beorn did not want to live without and it was madness and ecstasy all at once. It was at least a little comforting to look in Bilbo’s eyes and see the same confused mix of emotions mirrored back at him. They were in this together, whatever _this_ was. 

But it was more than just sleeping together - Bilbo had announced that he  _like_  liked Beorn, and Beorn had to admit the same. 

“Don’t stop,” Bilbo bit out, voice strained. Beorn pulled back just enough that only the tip of his cock was in his mouth, and then sucked hard. It made Bilbo squeak, his hips starting to stutter. Beorn wished he could encourage Bilbo further, but he did not want to let the hard, hot cock slip from between his lips. Bilbo tasted good, smelled looked felt good.

He tugged on Bilbo’s hips, trying to get a rhythm going and after some more wobbling Bilbo understood what he was doing and then Beorn really got to have his mouth fucked. 

“I’m - I’m -” Bilbo’s hand clutched and scrambled over his shoulder and he hunched down, the pace of his hips stuttering. “Oh,  _Beorn_.”

The seed that spurted into his mouth was somehow hotter than Bilbo’s cock - and it solidified Beorn’s opinion that Bilbo’s taste was fucking good. He was almost sad when, still shaking, Bilbo sat back, but perked up when Bilbo curved his back to take Beorn’s mouth in a kiss.

Licking into Bilbo’s mouth allowed Beorn to find traces of himself and now the taste of his of seed was also well and truly mixed with Bilbo’s. It made something very primal inside of him settle down and purr as if it had been one of his cats. 

The words ‘mine’ and ‘mate’ hovered on the outskirts of Beorn’s consciousness but he didn’t look too closely at them. It was too soon for that. 

But with the way Bilbo held Beorn’s face in his hands and he kissed Beorn with all his attention, he rather thought that Bilbo felt the same way.

“Condoms,” Bilbo whispered, and Beorn couldn’t help but snort out a laugh.  
  
“You say the sweetest things.”

“And you taste sweet.” He pressed a tiny kiss to the corner of Beorn’s mouth. “Honey?”

“No, but it’s certainly sticky.” It wouldn’t be good to end up sticking to each other so he sat up carefully, holding Bilbo steady in his lap.

“Shower, then?” Bilbo smirked. “Just to wash up, obviously.”

“It’s not like either of us is going to get it up soon.” He squinted. “Right?”

“I’m a normal person, unfortunately.”

“And here I thought you were a -”

“ _Not_  a bunny.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The epilogue will be posted right after this chapter.


	6. Epilogue

“Good morning.”  
  
“Oh my- _Gandalf_?” Bilbo scrambled up from the bench standing outside Beorn’s kitchen window. “What on earth are you doing here?”  
  
“I could ask you the same,” the old man muttered. “You have not been easy to find, Bilbo Baggins.”  
  
“Now wait a minute,” Bilbo protested. “I sent everyone my new address, last I checked you’re part of everyone.”  
  
“And is this the address you left us?” Gandalf asked with deceptive mildness, grey eyes narrowing.  
  
“No, but it must have been so terribly difficult to stop a random person on the street and ask for directions,” Bilbo defended. “Dale is not exactly a bustling metropolis, I would say that most of them would know who I am if you’d cared to ask. Admit that you just didn’t want to ask for directions. I know you, old man.”  
  
“To think that I -”  
  
“Bilbo, who are you - Gandalf?”  
  
Looking back and forth between Beorn and Gandalf - the former scowling and the latter still sputtering about how Bilbo’s mother would not have supported his way of greeting an old friend (which was an atrocious lie since Belladonna never stood for Gandalf being difficult) – Bilbo raised an eyebrow.  
  
“You two know each other?”  
  
“Unfortunately,” Beorn growled. “Gandalf? What are you doing here?”  
  
“It’s a bit of a long story but -”

“No, no distracting me with stories this time!” Beorn protested. “Last time you were here I had to clean pixies out of the house for weeks. And they kept upsetting my cats.”

“ _Pixies_!” Bilbo squeaked.  
  
“Why are you here,” Beorn demanded. “One sentence.”  
  
Gandalf did not look particularly pleased but he did not argue. “I’m looking for someone to share in an adventure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've enjoyed the story it'd be very appreciated if you dropped us a comment!


End file.
